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PASSACONAWAY 

IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS 



BY 

CHARLES EDWARD BEALS, Jr. 

ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 




BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER 

TORONTO: THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED 



Copyright, 1916, by Charles Edward Beals, Jr. 



All Rights Reserved 



Grateful acknowledgment is made to Houghton Mifl3in Company for 
generous permission to quote from Franii BoUes's poem, "Two Sentinels," 
published in his "Chocorua's Tenants"; and for the use of Lucy Lar- 
com's poem, "Clouds on Whiteface," re-published in Musgrove's "The 
White Hills in Poetry"; also to Mr. Stephen Henry Thayer for permis- 
sion to reproduce his charming sonnet, "Whiteface." 



DEC r41916 

The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. 



Printed in the United States of America 

©CI,A453113 



INTRODUCTION 

THE young man who wrote this book commenced 
his explorations of Passaconaway-land when four 
years old, at which mature age he climbed to the "turn 
of the slide" on Mount Passaconaway. With him it 
was a case of "love at first sight." He cannot remem- 
ber when he did not love the White Mountains. And, 
with each succeeding year, that feeling has deepened. 
How the world looks from a Beal-loved little moun- 
tain nest — "Score-o'-Peaks" — the youngster will tell. 
If, by his chapters, he shall succeed in imparting to 
some weary soul a tithe of the pleasure which has been 
experienced by one family during nearly a score of 
summers, I shall think that it was indeed a happy in- 
spiration which led me to suggest to the lad that he 
record the things herein set down. 

Charles E. Beals. 
"Score-o'-Peaks," 

Passaconaway, N . H., 

The Junior's birthday anniversary, igi6. 



CONTENTS 



I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XL 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 
XV. 

XVI. 



Passaconaway, the Man 
Passaconaway's Papooses 

WONALANCET, THE "PlEASANT-BREATHING" 

How Kancamagus Crossed Out the Ac 

COUNT 

Passaconaway's Pyramid 

Paugus, Mountain and Chieftain 

Chocorua's Horn and Legend 

The Northern Sky-line 

Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern 
Quadrant ..... 

Sabbaday's Triple Fall 

The Deer Ponds 

The Old Mast Road .... 

Albany (Passaconaway) Intervale, Past 
and Present ..... 



A Chapter of Adventures . 

Old Jack, Guide and Trapper of the White 
Mountains 



Forty Below Zero in Passaconaway-land 
Index 



II 

52 
60 

77 
102 

115 
130 

157 

173 
186 

193 
202 

210 
248 

273 
301 

323 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Passaconaway Intervale .... 




Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 

Passaconaway the Bashaba ...... 22 


Mounts Passaconaway and Tripyramid . 






102 


The Pitcher Fall 






136 


Chocorua's Horn 






140 


Bear Mountain 






158 


Sugar Hill and Mount Huntington 






170 


Mount Potash 






178 


Up Sabbaday Brook ..... 






186 


Sabbaday's Punch-bowl 






188 


Church Pond 






194 


The Historic George House . 






224 


Shackford's (The Passaconaway House) 






236 


Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 






290 


Ellen's Falls (Swift River Falls) 






306 


Forty below Zero . . , . , 






318 



PASSACONAWAY 

IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS 



PASSACONAWAY IN THE 
WHITE MOUNTAINS 

CHAPTER I 

PASSACONAWAY, THE MAN 

FROM my summer home In the White Mountains, 
I can look out upon a skyline of over twenty 
mountain peaks. Of these, several bear Indian names, 
— Passaconaway, Wonalancet,^ Kancamagus, Chocorua 
and Paugus. I like to lie in the hammock on the porch, 
gaze upon these mighty peaks and think of the brave 
chiefs of long ago whose names they bear. For these 
were not imaginary Indians whose names have come 
down to us. 

The first three named were famous chiefs, the heads 
of a powerful confederacy of thirteen or more tribes.^ 
This federation, with the exception of the Five Na- 
tions of New York, was the most powerful Indian 
coalition in the East. Passaconaway welded this 
confederacy together under the leadership of his tribe, 
the Pennacook. 

' Wonalancet, though not visible from our cottage, may be seen 
from certain points in the valley. 

^Hubbard: History of New England, 30; Osgood: White Moun- 
tains, 24-5; Merrill: History of Carroll County, N. H., 26. 

II 



12 Passaconaway 

Shortly before the advent of the Pilgrims, a pesti- 
lence swept through New England and did its work 
so thoroughly that, in many cases, powerful tribes 
dwindled to mere handfuls of forlorn survivors.^ In 
such numbers were the dusky inhabitants swept off that 
there were not enough left to bury the dead.* Nine- 
tenths, it has been said, of the New England Indians 
perished in this plague/' When Sir Richard Hawkins 
revisited the coast in 1615, the aborigines were strug- 
gling against this pestilence. He vividly tells of seeing 
their unburied skeletons bleaching in deserted wigwam 
towns.^ 

After such devastation, new tribal relations had to 
be formed. Then, too, the Mohawk cloud darkened 
the horizon and, as never before, became a source of 
constant terror to these scattered and enfeebled East- 
erners. Our Indians had fought hand to hand with the 
hated Maguas, and all too well knew their strength 
and valor.'^ Now, scattered, decimated, and leaderless, 
they could see the rising of the Mohawk storm. They 
must unite and must have a leader! A man of com- 
manding personality, of giant physique, a warrior, a 
statesman, a leader in every sense of the word, — for 
such a man did the hour call.^ 

'Bureau of American Ethnology, Bull. 30, Part II, 225-6, Handbook 
of American Indians; Granite State Magazine, vol. I, 196. 
■* Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 100. 

* Merrill : History of Carroll County, 26. 

° Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, icxj. 
'Lyford: History of Concord. 

* Compare Lyford: History of Concord; Potter, History of Man- 
chester, 48. 



Passaconaway, the Man 13 

At this time the Pennacooks, around Manchester 
and Concord, were the strongest and most highly de- 
veloped of the New England Indians, and their tribe 
was the best organized one.® The man who had put 
the Pennacooks into the front rank in New England 
was Passaconaway. He was the red man's hope. To 
him the tribes looked for leadership. In him all the 
qualities of a leader of men seemed to be combined. 
He was a physical and intellectual giant. Under his 
guidance the Pennacooks secured, by marriage, diplo- 
macy and sometimes by war, an alliance with over a 
dozen tribes in what is now New Hampshire, Massa- 
chusetts and Maine. This alliance, bearing the name 
Pennacook, included the Pennacooks, Wachusetts, 
Agawams, Wamesits, Pequawkets, Pawtuckets, 
Nashuas, Namaoskeags, Coosaukes, Winnepesaukes, 
Piscataquas, Winnecowetts, Amariscoggins, Newiche- 
wannocks, Sacos, Squamscotts, and Saugusaukes.^*^ 
Such a union is proof enough of the prowess and diplo- 
matic finesse of its Bashaba, the mighty Passaconaway 
of the Pennacooks. 

Before beginning the life-story of this head chieftain, 
who was probably the greatest New England Indian 
of whom we have any record, let us return to the 
threatening Mohawk storm. The savage onslaught 
broke with the fury of a hurricane just before the form- 
ing of Passaconaway's confederacy, some years (some 

'Lyford: History of Concord. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 48; Flagg: Handbook of American 
Indians, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin No. 30, Part II, 
225-6; Osgood: White Mountains, 24. i 



14 Passaconaway 

say twenty) before the landing of the Pilgrims. Never- 
theless, we have vivid and reliable accounts regard- 
ing it. 

The Gibraltar of the Pennacooks was a strongly built 
fort on the crest of Sugar Ball Hill in what is now Con- 
cord, N. H. According to their custom, upon nearing 
the enemy's country, the Mohawks separated into bands 
of from less than a dozen to more than twenty men 
each. These bands, with a definite time and meeting- 
place clearly agreed upon, would make their way as 
secretly as possible, from different points as opportunity 
offered, cruelly murdering and pillaging all in their 
path.^^ This time, the usual plan was being carried out 
when a small party of New Yorkers fell in with certain 
Pennacooks and, after a skirmish, the former were put 
to rout. The alarm spread like wild fire, and, in an 
incredibly short time, the entire Pennacook tribe either 
disappeared in the forests or, gathering their corn, 
flocked to the Concord fort. 

The repulse of the Mohawk skirmishers only spurred 
them on to redoubled efforts. No time was lost in 
meeting at the fort, but, on seeing it, the invaders real- 
ized the uselessness of trying to take it by storm. For 
a while the two foes eyed each other like two leashed 
bull dogs. The Pennacooks, well supplied with corn 
and knowing that they could not match the foe in open 
battle, were content to await the next move. Not so 
with their foes, who chafed and fumed at the delay. 

Many tricks and ruses of Indian cunning were dis- 
cussed, for, if the fort was to fall, it must be by strategy. 

"See Lyford: Hjptory of Concord. 



Passaconaway, the Man 15 

After one or two feints, which failed to draw the Pen- 
nacooks out of their stronghold, the Mohawks drew 
off in disgust. Next morning a lone Mohawk was seen 
leisurely crossing the plain at the base of the bluff, 
almost under the Pennacooks' very noses. The huge 
log gate opened a trifle and a young brave slipped out, 
then another, a third and so on, until over a score were 
pursuing the prey. The Mohawk ran like a fox for 
the wood-fringed river with the long line of whooping 
warriors in his wake. 

In the excitement the New Yorkers, leaving a few 
warriors to protect the decoy and ambush the pur- 
suing youths, moved through the woods, crossed the 
Merrimac above the fort and, under cover of scrub 
trees and bushes, managed to draw near the fort, 
unseen. After the last pursuer had disappeared, they 
broke from cover with a blood-curdling yell and rushed 
upon the poorly-defended fort. The fight was bitter. 
Because of numbers, the raiders were fast gain- 
ing the upper hand, when the pursuers, perceiving 
the ruse, returned and fell upon the foe. Numerical 
superiority now rested with the Pennacooks. Tradi- 
tion tells us that both sides were almost literally cut to 
pieces before the few remaining Mohawks, baffled and 
wounded, finally took to the woods, leaving their dead 
and dying In the hands of the victors. ^^ 

The future Bashaba must have been terrible In this 
fight, for he himself stated that from his wigwam pole 
the most Mohawk scalps hung. After this memorable 

"Lyford: History of Concord; Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 
158-9. 



1 6 Passaconaway 

and last battle with the Mohawks, Passaconaway's peo- 
ple held them in mortal fear and would endure almost 
anything rather than risk another such conflict. Of the 
Mohawks one says: "When they first encountered 
white men in 1609 their name had become a terror in 
New England, insomuch that as soon as a single Mo- 
hawk was caught sight of by the Indians of that country, 
they would raise the cry from hill to hill, 'A Mohawk! 
a Mohawk!' and forthwith would flee like sheep before 
wolves, never dreaming of resistance." ^^ 

Let us for a moment glance at some of the interesting 
customs and occupations of the Pennacooks, for we 
shall be better able to visualize these early New Eng- 
enders in their sorrows and joys if some of their 
methods of life are understood. Pennacook, now Con- 
cord, meaning "at the bottom of the hill," ^* was the 
rendezvous of all the Indians of that name.^^ On what 
is now Sewall's Island the royal residence was raised.^'' 
It will be borne in mind that the red man is nomadic and 
makes frequent moves. In summer the squaws move 
the frail wigwam from one field to another, and from 
one part of a field to another, in order to escape the 
fleas, ^^ which the Indians dubbed "poppek" on account 
of their celerity of movement. But, usually, the royal 
residence was pitched in about the same place. Passa- 

"Fiske: The Discovery of America, vol. I, 55; quoting Cadwallader 
Colden: History of the Five Nations, New York, 1727. 

" Handbook of American Indians, Bureau of American Ethnology 
Bull. 30, Part n, 225. 

"Lyford: History of Concord. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 56; Lyford: History of Concord. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 47. 



Passaconaivay, the Man 17 

conaway had other headquarters on an island about a 
mile north of the junction of the Souhegan and Merri- 
mac rivers. ^^ An island was a desirable site, because 
the breezes, playing over it, would sweep away the pes- 
tiferous little midges, or "no-see-ums" as the natives 
termed them, because of their invisibility.^^ These 
islands which we have named, besides being far famed 
as the seats of authority and scenes of royal feasts 
and council-fires, were also noted as the places where 
the Bashaba performed his feats of magic, for Passa- 
conaway was not only the most powerful war-chief in 
this part of the world, but also the most famous pow- 
wow, or medicine-man, likewise. 

The Pennacooks raised corn, melons, squashes, 
gourds, pumpkins, and beans. They also dug for 
groundnuts and gathered acorns, chestnuts and walnuts. 
To the early settlers they gave this rule: "Begin to 
plant when the oak leaf becomes as large as a mouse's 
ear." -° These people regarded the crow as being al- 
most as sacred as the sun itself. One of their legends 
relates how the Great Manit sent a crow from his 
"Kantantowit's field" — the great Southwest — with the 
first bean and the first kernel of corn, which he depos- 
ited in New England. From these all their bean and 
corn crops sprang.-^ How many of us, while eating 
Indian corn, watermelon, pumpkin or squash, realize 
that for centuries before the white man's advent, 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 56. 

"Thoreau: Maine Woods. 

*" Potter: History of Manchester, 38-40; Lyford: History of Concord. 

" Potter : History of Manchester, 40. 



1 8 Passaconaway 

the dusky aborigines were waxing fat and strong on 
these vegetables raised in the Saco Valley, Winnepe- 
saukee and other regions? They cultivated several dif- 
ferent kinds of gourds, many species of which are now 
rare and some probably extinct, but all were known 
as Askutasquash. We — with the English habit of clip- 
ping words — retain only the last syllable, and call a 
now common gourd a "squash." Sometimes these 
Merrimac Indians steamed or boiled their gourds; at 
other times, especially on trips when a fire might be 
dangerous, they ate them raw.^^ 

According to Judge Chandler E. Potter, who gave 
this subject careful and exhaustive research, the occu- 
pations of the Pennacooks ranked thus: First and fore- 
most, farming; second, hunting and fishing; third and 
last, the fashioning of tools necessary for the carrying 
on of these occupations. Naturally the Pennacook was 
a husbandman and not a "knight of the sword." War 
was not a profession. It was indulged in only as 
necessity demanded, which was seldom, with this peace- 
loving tribe. 

Then came the Englishman, with his drum, bayonet, 
red coat and bearskin cap — an imposing figure in the 
savage eye. Judge Potter claims that from the time 
of the advent of the English, the red man became a 
martial man. He shifted the farm work off upon his 
squaw, who already had the drudgery of the wigwam. 
However, when a field was to be cleared for planting, 
the entire tribe, braves included, turned to and the field 
was rapidly cleared. But this seems to have been the 

""See Potter: History of Manchester, 41. 



Passaconaway, the Man 19 

extent of the male Pennacook's agricultural exertions, 
from now on.^^ Men were kept, by the English, stand- 
ing around, doing no work; why should not the dusky 
warriors do likewise? Were the Indians not just as 
powerful, just as terrible and just as fearless in battle 
as the red-coated "braves" of the whites? So, from the 
industrious and hard-working farmers, they changed 
into mere idlers, and this new custom became the bane 
of their race.^"* It is claimed by Belknap that these 
Indians were not murderous and treacherous until the 
white man taught them these lessons.^-'' 

Canoe-making was an art in which the Indians ex- 
celled. Under favorable conditions two men could 
make a good birch-bark one in a day.^*^ 

Under normal conditions an athletic brave could 
shoot an arrow entirely through the body of a moose 
or bear so that with spent force it would fall to earth 
many yards the other side of the victim.-^ We find 
Passaconaway boasting of being the most powerful 
bowman of his tribe. A favorite hunting ground of 
the Indians seems to have been the White Mountain 
region. By means of a trap known as the "kulheag" 
they caught the bear, beaver, wildcat and sable. ^'^ The 
dusky hunters in "the forest primeval" ^^ seemed to 
possess the animal instincts intensified, and they de- 

^ Potter: History of Manchester, 38-46. 

**The same, 38. 

^^ See Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 11. 

''Granite Monthly, vol. XV, 186. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 42. 

^^ The same, 43. 

^Longfellow: Evangeline. 



20 Passaconaway 

lighted at beating the animals "at their own game," 
such as outwitting a fox, outwrestling a bear, etc. 

On the Merrimac the Indians had two "fishing- 
places," Pawtucket (Lowell) and Namaoskeag (Man- 
chester) .^^ Their third was at the outlet of Lake 
Winnepesaukee, where dams were constructed at 
Ahquedaukenash (meaning "dams" or "stopping- 
places"). From the fact that when the English dis- 
covered this last place they found several of these per- 
manent dams, or wiers, they named it the "Wiers," 
and to-day it bears this name.^^ (But Weare, N. H., 
was named for Meshach Weare. See Little's "History 
of Weare, N. H.") Vast quantities of shad were 
caught at the Wiers, ^^ while on the Merrimac, besides 
shad, thousands of salmon, alewives, and lamprey-eels 
were secured.^^ So many fish were taken that, by 
drying and smoking them, the tribes were able to lay 
in a supply for the entire winter. 

Once a year all the Pennacook people congregated 
at these fishing-places and observed a festival or series 
of holidays. At these times lovers' vows were plighted, 
marriages performed, and speeches made.^"* At the 
oflicial council, with every sachem and warrior present, 
the affairs of the nation were discussed in true "town- 
meeting" style, long before the advent of the now 
world-renowned New England town-meeting. Every 

""Potter: History of Manchester, 32. 

=^Same. 

^'Lyford: History of Concord. 

*' Potter: History of Manchester, 32-3. 

" Same. 



Passaconaway, the Man 21 

one could voice his opinion freely, and, in the presence 
of all, the policy for the coming year was outlined.^^ 
All intertribal disputes were peaceably and reasonably 
arbitrated, and, under Passaconaway's leadership, the 
confederacy constantly grew stronger and more and 
more harmonious. If war was deemed necessary, the 
recruits were mustered in and war-dances held at these 
fishing-places.^*^ Here, too, the Bashaba proved to all, 
through feats of magic, his intimacy with the Great 
Spirit, Manitou the Mighty.^^ 

With the Pennacooks, the favorite place of assem- 
bly seems to have been Amoskeag Falls. Passacon- 
away for many years had his royal residence upon the 
hill on the east side of the Merrimac, where Governor 
Smyth later built his mansion. ^'^ Eliot repeatedly vis- 
ited the Pennacooks at this place, because here he 
found great numbers gathered together well disposed 
to listen to his preaching. It is highly probable that 
here, at Amoskeag Falls, was the fishing-place the 
Apostle refers to when he writes of Passaconaway's 
acceptance of Christianity.^^ 

Another custom among these people was this: When 
prisoners, especially Indians, were captured, they were 
led to the fishing-place. Then, if one of their own 
warriors had fallen, the wife or mother of the de- 
ceased might choose one of the prisoners; the fate of 

°^ Compare Janney: Life of Wm. Penn, 234. 

^Potter: History of Manchester, 34-5, 50-2. 

"^Longfellow: Hiawatha. 

^ Granite Monthly, vol. I, 26-7. 

^'Potter: History of Manchester, 34-5; Lyford: History of Concord. 



22 Passaconaway 

this one was in her hands; she could order him killed 
or adopt him in place of the lost one. The captive was 
usually spared and adopted. The remainder of the 
prisoners were either held for ransom or slain. Al- 
though unusually free from wars, yet even when em- 
broiled in one, the Pennacooks were exceptionally mer- 
ciful towards their prisoners, rarely torturing or kill- 
ing them.^° 

On state occasions a sort of cap or coronet was worn, 
such as may be seen on Passaconaway in his picture 
in this book. In war times, eagle or hawk feath- 
ers, or sometimes a long head-dress, adorned the 
sachem's head. In preparation for battle the war- 
riors daubed their faces with red and black paint for 
the purpose of striking terror into their foes. Upon 
their breasts the head and sometimes the body of a 
black bear was painted. This was the Pennacook 
totem, or coat-of-arms. The tribal totem, painted 
upon the breast of all warriors, served as a means of 
identification, just as "civilized" nations use flags and 
uniforms. ^^ 

At one time during Passaconaway's reign his tribe 
numbered over three thousand and, should necessity 
require, he could throw an army of skilful and cunning 
veterans numbering over five hundred men into the 
field.^^ This army, using the Indian mode of warfare, 
was a powerful machine, whose stealthy ambush and 
unlimited endurance were not to be despised. Had the 

'"Potter: History of Manchester, 52. 

" The same, 50. 

"Lyford: History of Concord. 




Passaconaway, the Bash aba 

(From Potter's History of Manchester) 



Passaconaway, the Man 23 

Bashaba joined his force with King PhiHp's inferior 
band, historians probably would have chronicled a 
different story from that of the defeat and ignoble 
death of the latter.^^ Time and again we have illus- 
trations of the damage inflicted by a score or two of 
Indians upon vastly superior numbers of whites by 
ambuscade and agility. 

Let us now glance at Passaconaway himself, the man 
who welded into unity and held with an iron hand his 
great confederacy. The chief reason why his life- 
story is not more widely known among us to-day is be- 
cause he was a friend of the whites and not a destroyer 
of them. Peaceful Indians seem to be overlooked by 
the historians. Whole volumes are written about 
Philip, Osceola, Sitting Bull, and other Indians who 
have brought disaster to the whites. But friendly In- 
dians like Massasoit, Tahanto and Passaconaway — 
real helpers and staunch friends of the whites — are 
ungratefully forgotten. 

Passaconaway, the "son of the Bear," was the first 
"Teddy Bear" of whom we have any historical account 
in America. There is reason to believe that he was 
born between 1555 and 1573. In accordance with 
Indian custom, upon his reaching maturity he was 
given a name chosen because of his most pronounced 
characteristics. Thus, in order to have received the 
name "Papisseconewa" (as his name was spelled In 
early colonial days) , which is derived from Papoels — a 
child — and Kunnaway — bear — he must have been a 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 65. 



24 Passaconaway 

powerful, fierce and gigantic youth. ^^ He is seen in 
the picture wearing a bear's head and skin, as part of 
his royal insignia. Passaconaway, because of his un- 
usual powers, physical, magical, social and intellectual, 
was given a title which few have held — Bashaba. A 
Bashaba is head and shoulders above sagamore, 
sachem or chief, and corresponds to Emperor in our 
language.*-^ 

The first thing that we actually know concerning 
Passaconaway's relations to the English was his pres- 
ence at Plymouth in 1620, when the Pilgrims came in 
the Mayflower. The whites were totally ignorant of 
his presence, yet he himself later tells us that he 
was there. He was in his prime at this time and 
was the most noted powwow, or sorcerer, on record. '*'^ 

Passaconaway, with several other medicine-men, 
was summoned to Plymouth to conjure against 
the English. For three days, in a dark swamp, 
these magicians attempted to call down lightning to 
burn the ships, and they sought to bring plague and 
pestilence upon the new-comers, but all in vain. The 
ships would neither catch fire nor spring a leak. Evi- 
dently the Great Spirit could not or would not strike 
dead the interlopers.^^ Passaconaway, probably the 
recognized leader in this powwow, tells us that the 
Great Spirit whispered to him then, "Peace, peace with 
the whites. You and your people are powerless against 

■"Potter: History of Manchester, 54. 

''Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. HI, 21-32. 

"Compare Hubbard, in Drake: Indians of North America, 278. 

"Mather: Magnalia, vol. I, 55. 



Passaconaway, the Man 25 

them." Here at Plymouth the Bashaba learned a 
lesson which he never forgot — that the white man's 
god was stronger than his own."^^ "I made war upon 
them, my young men were struck down before me, 
when no one was near them." Sadly he returned to 
Pennacook, realizing that he could neither destroy the 
invaders by sorcery, nor with his braves successfully 
contend against their miraculous fire and thunder. 
Because of the realization of the superiority of the 
English, Passaconaway, instead of combating them, 
decided to treat them kindly. ^^ 

Christopher Levett, when in the neighborhood, while 
exploring the coast in 1623, reports seeing a gigantic 
Indian, reverenced by all — white and red men alike — 
who called himself "Conway." There is little doubt 
that this was Passaconaway.'^^ The same year the 
chieftain paid a visit to a plantation on which the Eng- 
Hsh had settled, which act Passaconaway considered an 
encroachment upon his domains. From these fron- 
tiersmen the report came that the chief was about 
sixty years old. His confederacy at this time was at 
its zenith. 

Although a strong and commanding personality, the 
Bashaba possessed moderation, keen insight and sagac- 
ity.^^ These qualities, with his genius for swaying 
a crowd, and his almost superhuman feats of necro- 

*' Hubbard's Gen. Hist, of New England; Mass. Hist. Coll., and 
Series, vol. V; Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 101-2. 
''* See Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 101-2. 
^"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 54. 
"' Lyford : History of Concord. 



26 Passaconaivay 

mancy, made Passaconaway the most influential sachem 
in New England, and probably the greatest red man 
in the East. Passaconaway was the equal of any of 
his white contemporaries.^^ 

Very early he realized the effect of his magical pow- 
ers upon the multitudes and is reported as having per- 
formed extraordinary feats "to the wonderment and 
awe" of his superstitious subjects. From Englishmen 
who mingled with the Pennacooks and who were wit- 
nesses of several of his sleight-of-hand tricks, we learn 
that the powwow swam across the Merrimac under 
water at a place where it was far too wide to cross in 
one breath. It was explained that, after entering the 
water on the farther side, a mist was cast before the 
spectators' eyes and he was not again seen until he 
stepped out upon the bank in front of the wondering 
beholders.^^ 

Another time we are told that Passaconaway placed 
a bowl of water before him. The usual incantation 
then followed, in the midst of which a black cloud hov- 
ered over the assembled company and suddenly a sharp 
clap of thunder rent the air. To the amazement of 
the spectators, a solid piece of ice floated in the bowl; 
this trick Avas performed in the middle of summer. 
Settlers, reporting it, added: "Which doubtless was 
done by the agility of Satan, his consort." ^^ 

"Wood, in his 'New England's Prospect,' says : 'The 

"'Merrill: History of Carroll County, 27. 
''^ Morton: New England Canaan, 150-1. 

°* Morton: New England Canaan, 25-6; Force: Historical Tracts, 
vol. H; Potter: History of Manchester, 55. 



Passaconaway, the Man 27 

Indians report of one Passaconawaw, that hee can 
make water burne, the rocks move, the trees dance, 
metamorphlse himself into a flaming man. Hee will 
do more; for in winter, when there are no green leaves 
to be got, hee will burne an old one to ashes and put- 
ting these into water, produce a new green leaf, which 
you shall not only see but substantially handle and 
Carrie away; and make a dead snake's skin a living 
snake, both to be seen, felt, and heard. This I write 
but on the report of the Indians, who confidentially 
affirm stranger things.' " ^'' The Bashaba could hold 
a living, venomous snake in his hand as If it were a 
worm.^*^ From so many sources are these feats re- 
ported that there is little doubt as to their having taken 
place. ^''' 

Like the prophets of old, this heathen Bashaba was 
whole generations ahead of his people. Long before 
his brethren, he perceived the general superiority of 
the Anglo-Saxons over the Indians. -^^ The Great Spirit, 
as he relates, had whispered to him that although the 
palefaces were now only few In number, they were to 
be as numerous as the leaves of the forest; that the 
red man's hunting-ground was to be stripped of its 
timber and furrowed with the white man's plow; and 
that the rivers and fishing-places were to be choked 
with dams and whirring mills. All this, with his states- 

^° Bouton : History of Concord, 20. 

■*" Same in Bouton; Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, loi. 
" See Wood, Morton, Hubbard and later historians. 
■"* Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 56; Belknap: Hist, of New Hamp- 
shire, vol. I, 101-2. 



2 8 Passaconazvay 

manlike vision, he foresaw, and to-day we arc able to 
judge of the accuracy of his foresight. 

But he did not give up without an effort; not by 
wasting his young men before the white man's fire and 
thunder, however, but by the "supernatural" powers 
in his possession, did he make this struggle. A brave 
man was Passaconaway, yet, like Chocorua and many 
other warriors of this region, the thunder of the white 
man's "iron pipe" and the flash sent a shiver through 
his frame. Not the "crack" of the gun, but what it 
symbolized, caused this terror. To the superstitious 
aborigines the mere flash and report were compara- 
tively nothing, but every musket-shot gave positive 
proof that the whites' god was omnipotent and 
destructive; that each and every white could, through 
his "iron pipe," summon the aid of his deity, which 
god would sweep down the Indians before him, no mat- 
ter how far distant they might be.^^ Years later, when 
traders had sold them rifles, powder and bullets, this 
erroneous idea was corrected. But at this period it 
seems to have been almost universal. So we find Pas- 
saconaway fighting them with "medicine," not, like 
Philip, with knife and tomahawk. This recognition of 
the superiority of the whites' divine ally seems to have 
been the reason for Passaconaway's policy of "Peace 
with the English." 

To the early colonists themselves, it seemed most 
providential that the Almighty had led so powerful a 
chieftain to adopt a policy of peace and to restrain 
his bands of forest soldiers, even when smarting under 

"Compare Willey: Incidents in White Mountain History, 373-6. 



Passaconaway, the Man 29 

wrongs and injustice from those whom he befriended.**^ 
Historians agree that a word from Passaconaway, or, 
later, from Wonalancet, would have swept our fore- 
fathers into the sea. The settlements of Strawberry 
Bank (Portsmouth), Newburyport and Saugus (Lynn) 
were not equal to the forces immediately under the 
Pennacook's command, to say nothing of the allies he 
might have procured. That he could have swept the 
seacoast clear of the whites is well within the bounds 
of sober probability.*'^ 

Passaconaway's peace policy was one for which he 
paid dearly. In 1631, he officially demonstrated his 
determination to deal justly with the English by de- 
livering up a kinsman, a murderer, for trial. At that 
time, his tribe was the wealthiest and strongest in 
New England; twenty years later his people had been 
reduced from prosperity to the verge of starvation and 
beggary.^2 This was the cost of a "Peace Apostle's" 
loyalty to a principle. So powerful was Passacona- 
way's grip upon his people that throughout the bloody 
Indian wars which occurred during his reign, not one 
of his subjects inflicted harm upon a single white man, 
woman, or child. 

A glaring moral weakness in a majority of the 
English settlers was their inability to distinguish one 
red man from another. To them an Indian was an 
Indian; praying or hostile, an Indian was a blood- 

" Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 65; cited in Charlton: New Hamp- 
shire as It Is, 26. 

"See Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 66. 
''The same, 64. 



30 Passaconaway 

thirsty, treacherous reptile, to be either hanged, mur- 
dered, or sold into slavery.''^ But who was it that 
had changed him from husbandman to vengeful war- 
rior? Who got him drunk and then cheated and 
swindled hlm?"^ By their own greed, unscrupulous- 
ness and rum, the whites debauched the red man. On 
good authority it has been said that a trader could 
lock up his post, full of valuable articles, and the next 
year find It untouched, unless by chance some white 
should discover it, In which case it surely would be 
looted. Again and again we shall cite Instances in 
which Innocent and peaceful Indians were treated as 
open enemies and unscrupulously murdered. 

One of the earliest of Passaconaway's transactions 
with the English is said to have been his signing of 
the famous Wheelwright Deed. By many this has 
been considered a forgery. The Rev. N. Bouton, 
D. D., Editor of the Provincial Papers of New Hamp- 
shire, writes thus, however: "The famous Wheel- 
wright Deed, which has been pronounced a forgery 
by Hon. James Savage, the distinguished antiquarian 
of Boston, and the late John Farmer, Esq., of Con- 
cord, bears date May 17, 1629. Hon. Chandler E. 
Potter, who has devoted much attention and research 
to the subject, maintains the validity of the deed. But 
whether the deed be a forgery or not it forms part of 
our history; — is the basis on which rests the grant of 
several townships In the state, Is recognized In various 
ways in our public records as genuine, . . . The deed 

''Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 103. 
"See Janney: Life of Wni. Penn, 233, 235. 



Passaconaway, the Man 31 

is recorded in the office of Recorder of Deeds, at 
Exeter." ^^ 

Let me give the substance of this famous document 
in a few words. It certifies that Passaconaway, for 
certain valuable considerations, sells to John Wheel- 
wright and his associates a tract of land extending 
from the then (1629) Massachusetts line thirty miles 
into the country, and from the Piscataqua to the 
Merrimac, reserving the hunting and fishing rights to 
his people. The seventh and last article declares that 
"every township within the aforesaid limits or tract 
of land that hereafter shall be settled shall pay to 
Passaconaway our chief sagamore that now is and to 
his successors forever, if lawfully demanded, one coat 
of trucking cloth a year." ^^ The names or marks of 
several noted sagamons were affixed to the deed as 
were also the signatures of some of the respectable 
planters of Saco and Piscataqua. Whether the Wheel- 
wright Deed is valid or not, it affords proof of the 
extent of the Bashaba's power and dominions.^''^ 

Rev. John Wheelwright had been a preacher at 
Braintree, then part of Boston, and was a brother of 
Anne Hutchinson. For preaching too searching a 
sermon in Boston on Fast Day, 1636, he was banished. 
Making his way to Exeter, he took up his abode there. 
He was a gentleman of "learning, piety and zeal," ^^ 

°^ Provincial Papers of New Hampshire, I, 56. 

®* Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 55-6. 

"Copy of the deed in Belknap: New Hampshire, vol. I, 289-291; 
also in Provincial Papers of New Hampshire, I, 56-9; Potter: History 
of Manchester, 56; cited in Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 12-3. 

** Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 35. 



32 Pass a con away 

and it seems unthinkable that a man of his character 
would countenance a forgery. 

Passaconaway's motive in disposing of this region 
seems to have been his fear of the Mohawks. (The 
name Mohawk is an Algonquin word meaning can- 
nibal, and was applied to the New Yorkers.**^) By sell- 
ing his land to the English, the latter naturally would 
settle in their newly-acquired possessions and this would 
insure the Pennacooks some measure of protection. 
But Passaconaway's idea was not that the Indians 
should vacate the lands they had sold, but that the 
whites should come and live with his people. In order 
to save their own scalps, the white frontiersmen would 
be forced to fight side by side with Passaconaway's 
men against the Mohawks. Doubtless this was the 
reason for such a wholesale alienation of lands. It 
seems to have been either a case of accepting the lesser 
of two evils, or a misunderstanding of the nature of 
a sale. 

As we have said, in 1631 Passaconaway performed 
an act incontrovertibly proving to the English his sin- 
cerity and his desire for justice. A trader named 
Jenkins was mysteriously murdered, while asleep in an 
Indian wigwam. The murderer was among the Pen- 
nacooks, and a summons was sent to the Bashaba noti- 
fying him of the crime. Immediately Passaconaway 
ordered the accused to be seized and turned over to 
the proper English authorities for trial. '^^ He did this 

•^Fiske: Discovery of America, vol. I, 6i, note. 

'"Bouton: History of Concord, 20; Drake: Indians of North America, 
285; Lyford: History of Concord. 



Passaconaway, the Man 33 

not with the idea of betraying a kinsman, but in order 
that honest and just relations might be estabhshed 
between his Indians and the EngHsh. 

Realizing their own treachery towards, and fraudu- 
lent treatment of, the Indians, the traders lived in 
constant fear of retaliation. Repeated alarms, based 
upon little or no foundation, rang through the province 
and threw the populace into a delirium of fear. Eleven 
years after Passaconaway had delivered up the mur- 
derer, he had a chance to measure the Englishman's 
gratitude."^^ A groundless alarm was spread in 1642, 
and, as usual, nearly everybody was thrown into a 
frenzy. Passaconaway, who, even now, in all proba- 
bility, could have swept the English into the sea, but 
who had chosen and was conscientiously trying to carry 
out a friendly policy, was singled out as the victim. 
He was gathering his hordes for a mighty onslaught — 
so went the rumor. Nothing could be plainer! 

A body of experienced soldiers was therefore des- 
patched to nip the plan in its bud and to seize the 
designing Bashaba."^^ The orders were to arrest the 
dangerous plotter at either Ipswich, Rowley, or New- 
bury, where, at that season of the year, he was accus- 
tomed to reside.'^" Luckily for him, a hard storm 
arose, which effectually checked the progress of the 
troops for three days. During this time, Passacona- 
way, being informed of their approach, retreated to 

"Lyford: History of Concord. 
"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 57. 

"Coolidge and Mansfield: History and Description of New Eng- 
land, N. H. vol., 402. 



34 Passaconaway 

the wilderness beneath the shadow of the White 
Mountains. 

Wonalancet, his second son, was not so fortunate. 
His wigwam was surprised and, although (some claim) 
his squaw escaped, he was taken. Brutally and insult- 
ingly they led him about by a rope until, loosening his 
cords, he sped to the bushes for cover. The whites 
fired upon the fugitive, wounding him, and recaptured 
him. But there were no signs of the anticipated war 
bands ! Crowned with the glory of an ignominious 
triumph, the heroes returned to Dover with the victims 
of their prowess — one or two peaceable braves and a 
few frightened squaws."^ The Massachusetts Govern- 
ment well knew the extent of the humiliation inflicted 
by its orders, and ought to have felt ashamed for hav- 
ing treated the Pennacooks so unjustly and so 
treacherously. 

Cutshamekin, a brave taken in this lamentable 
affair, was sent to Passaconaway, bearing an invitation 
to come to Boston and confer with the government 
oflicials.'^^ This was adding insult to injury, for the 
English demanded the delivering up of all the arms of 
the tribe. Had Passaconaway been forty years 
younger, I fear he might have delivered up consid- 
erable ammunition (in smoke). I fear his answer 
would not have been a few words of protest from 
injured innocence but a series of Deerfields and Sche- 
nectadys. The answer which he returned, however, 
shows that, although beginning to feel the pains of old 

"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 57; Lyford: Hist, of Concord. 
"Lyford: Hist, of Concord. 



Passaconaway, the Man 35 

age, he yet retained his proud and independent spirit. 
He was no man's dog and would brook no insult! He 
replied, "Tell the English when they restore my son 
and his squaw, then will I talk with them." Potter 
adds, "The answer was that of a man who felt he had 
been most deeply wronged." "'^ The aged Bashaba 
never wholly forgave this insult. 

From now on he began to distrust the sincerity of 
the whites and seems never fully to have overcome that 
feeling. Five years later an opportunity arose for 
him to show, in a subtle yet unmistakable manner, his 
feeling towards those who had wronged him. Dur- 
ing the spring of 1647, the Apostle Eliot came to the 
Pennacooks at Pawtucket to preach to the confederated 
tribes which annually gathered there. Of late, the 
Bashaba's time had been devoted to turning over and 
over in his mind the wrongs done him by the English, 
and evidently he came to the conclusion that a religion 
tolerating such injustices merited only contempt. So, 
when the clergyman drew near, Passaconaway took his 
family and secretly departed for the wilderness. He 
left this word of explanation for the unarmed Eliot, 
that the reason he left was that he "was afraid the Eng- 
lish would kill" him." Was rebuke ever more gently 
administered? 

In 1642, the same year in which Wonalancet had 
been taken, he was returned, whereupon the father de- 

'* Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 57; Drake: Indians of North America, 
279; Lyford: Hist, of Concord. 
"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 57. 



S6 Passaconaway 

llvered in "the required artillery." '^^ At least out- 
wardly, friendly relations thus were re-established and 
all was harmonious once more. 

For many years the Provincial Government had 
been endeavoring to secure a more binding assurance 
from the "great Merrimack" than just his simple word. 
As a means of forcing Passaconaway to sign the arti- 
cles submitting himself and people to the power and 
protection of the government, the English governors 
had long been pursuing a perfidious policy, a policy 
indeed which was continued long after this Bashaba's 
death, namely, that of endeavoring, with British gold, 
to bribe the Mohawks to sweep down upon and destroy 
the New England Indians."'^ Was this the protection 
offered by the government? If so, do we wonder that 
the Bashaba hesitated before accepting it? Since 1631 
not one Englishman had suffered injury at the hands 
of the confederated tribes, to Passaconaway's knowl- 
edge, yet his actions and words were not sufficient — he 
was dangerous because he had not yet bowed down 
and paid homage to the British King and flag. Mean- 
while, however, the governor of Massachusetts in 
person visited Albany, N. Y., to buy up the Mohawks 
as a fiery broom with which to sweep out of existence 
the Indian neighbors of the New Englanders. At last, 
in 1644, Passaconaway, in behalf of his confederated 
peoples, signed the articles of submission to that gov- 
ernment which, after seizing his fire-arms, actually had 

'^'Lyford: Hist, of Concord; Drake: Indians of North America, 297. 
"See Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 126. 



Passaconaway, the Man 37 

done its best to buy up his enemies to exterminate him.*" 
The following year ( 1645) his signature was affixed 
to a treaty signed at Boston, in which treaty were also 
included the Narragansetts, Niantics, Uncas and his 
Mohegans, together with several northern tribes.^^ 

During the next few years Passaconaway became 
deeply interested in religion. Already the incident of 
1647 has been cited, when the Bashaba retreated to 
his protecting woods before the advent of the Apostle 
Eliot, expressing his fears as to the motives of that 
clergyman. The following fishing season, "the great 
Merrimack" is found eagerly listening to the words of 
the noble missionary. Eliot's work among the Indians 
never can be over-appreciated by the whites. Passa- 
conaway drank in the message of life, he was deeply 
touched, and at length accepted the new religion for 
himself and his family, and urged his tribesmen to do 
the same.^^ 

That the sagamon was sincere and that he never 
wavered in his new resolution is certain.*^ Writing 
to Captain Willard, shortly after, concerning the Ba- 
shaba's conversion, Eliot bore witness that "Passacona- 
way did all in his power to keep him at Pennacook and 
offered him any place for a dwelling or anything he 
wanted if only he would remain and teach them 
more." ^* In other letters Eliot relates how earnestly 

'"Provincial Papers of New Hampshire, 174. 

^ Drake: Indians of North America, 159. 

'"Lyford: Hist, of Concord; Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 58. 

*' Same in Potter. 

"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 58. 



38 Passaconaway 

the "great Sachem" implored him to live at Pennacook. 
Among other arguments the Indian stated that, as he 
(Eliot) met them only once every twelve months, little 
good came of his teaching; for, no matter how impres- 
sive his word might be, the hearers forgot most of it 
before the year was out. Potter, in narrating how 
Passaconaway illustrated his request to Eliot, records 
the new convert as saying: "You do as if one should 
come and throw a fine thing among us, and we should 
catch at it earnestly, because it is so beautiful, but can- 
not look at it to see what is within; there may be in 
it something or nothing, a stock, a stone or a precious 
treasure ; but if it be opened and we see what is valuable 
therein, then we think much of it. So you tell us of 
religion, but (although) we know not what is within, 
we shall believe it to be as good as you say it is." ^^ 

This last sentence illustrates an Indian standard of 
politeness. An anecdote may be inserted here to show 
that the Indians regarded it a mark of good breeding 
to believe the words of another unless they had actual 
proof to the contrary. "A Swedish minister, having 
assembled the chiefs of the Susquehannah Indians, 
made a sermon to them, acquainting them with the 
principal historical facts on which our religion is 
founded: such as the fall of our first parents by eating 
an apple; the coming of Christ to repair the mischief; 
his miracles and sufferings, etc. — When he had finished, 
an Indian orator stood up to thank him. 'What you 
have told us,' said he, 'is all very good. It is indeed 
bad to eat apples. It is better to make them all into 

^"^ Potter: History of Manchester, 59. 



Passaconaway, the Man 39 

cider. We are much obliged by your kindness in com- 
ing so far to tell us those things, which you have heard 
from your mothers.' " But when, in his turn, "the 
Indian had told the missionary one of the legends of 
his nation, how they had been supplied with maize or 
corn, beans, and tobacco, he treated it with contempt, 
and said, 'What I delivered to you were sacred truths; 
but what you told me is mere fable, fiction and false- 
hood.' The Indian felt indignant, and replied, 'My 
brother, it seems your friends have not done you justice 
in your education; they have not well instructed you 
in the rules of common civility. You see that we, who 
understand and practise those rules, believe all your 
stories: why do you refuse to believe ours?' " ^^ 

There is little heard of the aged Passaconaway be- 
tween 1648 and 1660. At the latter date he was seen 
by Englishmen, a venerable, wrinkled old man of about 
one hundred and ten. Such longevity is not unique. In 
the "History of Concord" we read the names of sev- 
eral Indians who passed the century mark. 

Believing that his end probably was near, in the fish- 
ing season of 1660, Passaconaway despatched mes- 
sengers summoning all the subject tribes to Pawtucket. 
An enormous multitude gathered. Daniel Gookin, who 
reported the proceedings, was present.'^'^ In spite of 
the characteristic Indian stoicism, great sorrow was 
manifest among the red men. Their once all-conquer- 
ing Bashaba, now bent and trembling, was about to 
deliver his Farewell Speech. Especially noticeable was 

'* Drake: Indians of North America, 42. 
"Lyford: Hist, of Concord. 



40 Passaconaway 

the grief when the aged Passaconaway arose and, in 
husky tones, yet in the still musical remains of what 
once was the most powerful and melodious voice in all 
the confederacy,^^ addressed them thus: "Hearken to 
the words of your father. I am an old oak that has 
withstood the storms of more than an hundred winters. 
Leaves and branches have been stripped from me by the 
winds and frosts — my eyes are dim — my limbs totter 
— I must soon fall ! But when young and sturdy, when 
my bow — no young man of the Pennacooks could bend 
it — when my arrow would pierce a deer at an hundred 
yards — and I could bury my hatchet in a sapling to 
the eye — no wigwam had so many furs — no pole so 
many scalps as Passaconaway's ! Then I delighted in 
war. The whoop of the Pennacooks was heard upon 
the Mohawk — and no voice so loud as Passaconaway's. 
The scalps upon the pole of my wigwam told the story 
of Mohawk suffering. 

"The English came, they seized our lands; I sat me 
down at Pennacook. They followed upon my foot- 
steps; I made war upon them, but they fought with fire 
and thunder; my young men were swept down before 
me, when no one was near them. I tried sorcery 
against them, but they still increased and prevailed over 
me and mine, and I gave place to them and retired to 
my beautiful island of Natticook. I that can make the 
dry leaf turn green and liv-e again — I that can take the 
rattlesnake in my palm as I would a worm, without 
harm — I who have had communion with the Great 
Spirit dreaming and awake — I am powerless before the 

'* Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 60. 



Passaconaway, the Man 41 

Pale Faces. 

"The oak will soon break before the whirlwind — it 
shivers and shakes even now; soon its trunk will be 
prostrate — the ant and worm will sport upon it ! Then 
think, my children, of what I say; I commune with the 
Great Spirit. He whispers me now — 'Tell your peo- 
ple. Peace, Peace, is the only hope of your race. I 
have given fire and thunder to the pale faces for wea- 
pons — I have made them plentier than the leaves of 
the forest, and still shall they increase! These mead- 
ows they shall turn with the plow — these forests shall 
fall by the ax — the pale faces shall live upon your hunt- 
ing grounds, and make their villages upon your fishing 
places!' The Great Spirit says this, and it must be 
so ! We are few and powerless before them ! We must 
bend before the storm! The wind blows hard! The 
old oak trembles ! Its branches are gone ! Its sap is 
frozen ! It bends ! It falls ! Peace, Peace, with the 
white men — is the command of the Great Spirit — and 
the wish — the last wish — of Passaconaway." ^® 

A silence fell over the multitude as the venerable 
speaker took his seat — a deathlike silence. The elo- 
quence, pathos, and prophetic message of this speech 
were never forgotten by the Indians or by the whites 
present. The Bashaba had struck home. The coun- 
sel of the veteran leader made such an impression that 
the Pennacooks present on this solemn occasion prob- 
ably never deviated from the policy so eloquently advo- 
cated.®^ No, not until the youths now present had be- 

*" Potter: History of Manchester, 60-61. 
""Belknap: Hist, of New Hampshire, vol. I, 102. 



42 Passaconaway 

come aged or passed away altogether did Passacona- 
way's people attempt retaliation upon those who were 
grievously wronging them. 

"The Son of the Bear," however, after delivering 
this classic of Indian oratory, neither died nor abdicated 
the chieftainship. We find him still holding sway for 
at least three years more.®^ 

Piece by piece the English government took away the 
aged Pennacook's lands — lands he had reserved for 
his own poverty-stricken people. Englishman after 
Englishman, armed with a government grant, ordered 
him from his own fertile fields and hunting-grounds. 
To cap the climax, the legislature announced its inten- 
tion of issuing grants for the lands at Pennacook 
"whenever so many should be present to settle a plan- 
tation there." ^^ With his "beautiful island of Natti- 
cook," of which he had spoken so fondly, gone, and 
Pennacook going, Passaconaway began to see that not 
far distant was the day when he would not have enough 
soil left on which to stand. 

Infirm and heart-broken, he at last bowed his head 
and succumbed to fate. He must become a beggar, a 
burden upon charity. He, once the wealthiest, strong- 
est, and noblest chieftain in New England, now pov- 
erty-stricken ! In just eighteen years from the time 
he had submitted to the provincial government, his 
tribe, the most industrious and prosperous in New 
England, had become a paltry group of miserable 

"^Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 6i. 
■^ Same. 



Passaronaway, the Man 43 

paupers."^ Rum, commercial exploitation and English 
bayonets had "civilized" them and here they stood, a 
group of "Christian" beggars. 

At Pennacook, in 1662, Passaconaway became the 
"humble petitioner" to the "Great and Honred 
Court." He prayed that the rulers might, in reality, 
be generous enough to return to him, out of his own 
lands, enough to pitch a wigwam on.^^ The petition 
was as follows : 

"To the honerd John Endecot Esqr together with 
the rest of the honerd General Court now Assembled 
in Boston the petition of papisseconnewa in behalf of 
himself as also of many other Indians who now for 
a longe time o'r selves o'r progenators seated upon a 
tract of land called Naticot and is now in the pos- 
session of Mr. William Brenton of Rode Hand mar- 
chant; and is confirmed to the said Mr. Brenton to 
him his heirs and assigns according to the Laws of 
this Jurisdiction, by reason of which tracte of land 
beinge taken up as a foresaid, and thereby yr pore peti- 
tionir with many oth (ers is) in an onsetled condition 
and must be forced in a short time to remove to some 
other place. 

"The Humble request of yr petitionr is that this 
honerd Courte wolde pleas to grante vnto vs a parcell 
of land for or comfortable cituation; to be stated for 
or Injoyment; as also for the comfort of oths after 
vs; as also that this honerd Court wold pleas to take 

"^Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 64. 

""Lyford: Hist, of Concord; Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 61. 



44 Passaconaway 

in to yr serious and grave consideration the condition 
and also the requeste of yr pore Supliant and to a 
poynte two or three persons as a Committee to Ar 
(range wi) th sum one or two Indians to vew and 
determine of some place and to Lay out the same, not 
further to trouble this honerd Assembly, humbly crav- 
inge an expected answer this present sesion I shall re- 
main yr humble Servante 

"Wherein yu Shall commande 
"Papisseconewa. 
"Boston: 8:3 mo 1662." ^^ 

It is interesting to note that, just thirty years before, 
he had determined upon and delivered up Jenkins' mur- 
derer in order that friendly and peaceful relations with 
the English might be established. "The aged Merri- 
mack's" petition was granted, and it is amusing to note 
that, on the suggestion of the surveyors, who realized 
the plight of the redskin, "two small islands and 
a small patch of intervaile land" were added to the 
grant.^^ This show of generosity on the part of the 
government must have happily surprised him. No 
doubt he was also surprised, though not so happily, 
when he was ordered to pay the bill for surveying the 
grant.^'^ 

During Passaconaway's last years a trading post, o** 
trucking-house, was established at Pennacook, near the 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 61-2, quoting Mass. Archives. 
°* Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 63; Coolidge and Mansfield: Hist, and 
Description of New England, New Hampshire vol., 418-419. 
""Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 63. 



Passaconaway, the Man 45 

Scwall Farm, by Richard Waldron and Peter Coffin, 
both of Dover. Tahanto, a lesser sagamore, repeat- 
edly represented to these unscrupulous traders that 
trouble would result from the vast quantities of rum 
which were being sold to the Indians for furs. He 
pleaded with them to turn their rum upon the ground, 
for it would make the Indians "all one Devill." ®^ The 
selling of fire-water to the natives was against the Pro- 
vincial law.'^^ 

During the summer of 1668, some Indians were 
sent from this trucking-house by the agents, Thomas 
Payne and Dickinson, to Waldron's post at Piscataqua, 
to procure guns, ammunition, and cloth. Instead of 
the articles ordered, a little cloth and great quantities 
of liquor were sent. For a day and a half the Indians, 
over a hundred in number, were drunk together. ^''^ 
On the afternoon of the second day all left for their 
wigwams except one, who was more intoxicated than 
the rest and who remained in the building; soon an 
argument arose between the trader and this Indian 
and a cry was heard by an Indian in the vicinity. The 
latter discovered Dickinson on the floor, dying, and 
later noticed the intoxicated murderer, half stupefied, 
reeling off towards the woods with a bloody knife in 
his hand. Passaconaway was notified by the magis- 
trate and turned over the suspect to the proper authori- 
ties. By this time the murderer had regained his 
senses and expressed himself as "sorry for the poor 

*'New Hampshire Hist. Coll., vol. HI. 
**Gookin, in Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. I, 151. 
'"*• Lyford : Hist, of Concord. 



46 Passaconaway 

white man and willing to die for the crime." Nor 
was this said with the idea that penitence would save 
him, for, being condemned to death, in his last words 
he expressed sorrow for the victim. This Indian, when 
sober, would have hurt no one, being a law-abiding 
man. But, inflamed by the traders' rum, he was 
brought to crime and death. Says one historian: "It 
is rare that the Indians fall out if sober and if drunk 
they forgive saying, 'It was the drink, and not the man, 
that abused them.' " ^^'^ As we have intimated, the 
red man was condemned to be shot. Official investi- 
gation revealed that Payne and the murdered man had 
been selling rum contrary to law; Payne was fined 
thirty pounds. Coffin was fined fifty pounds and all 
charges, while his partner, Waldron, the "man higher 
up" — we shall know him better before our story ends — 
escaped scot free.^*'^ By such incidents were the 
latter days of Passaconaway saddened. 

Mr. Little says of Passaconaway: "It is a notorious 
fact that the English trespassed on his hunting-grounds 
and stole his lands. Yet he never stole anything from 
them. They killed his warriors, — yet he never killed 
a white man, woman, or child. They captured and 
imprisoned his sons and daughters, — yet he never led 
a captive into the wilderness. Once the proudest and 
most noble Bashaba in New England, he passed his 
extreme old age poor, forsaken, and robbed of all 
that was dear to him, by those to whom he had been 

^"^Janney's: Life of William Penn, 233, 235. 
^'''Lyford: History of Concord. 



Passaconaway, the Man 47 

a firm friend for nearly half a century." ^^^ 

Soon after the murder of Dickinson, Passaconaway 
disappeared from Pennacook and remained away dur- 
ing Philip's War. Probably he abdicated the chief- 
tainship about 1668 or 1669, for in 1669 Wonalancet 
was the recognized chief. After his abdication he re- 
ceived a tiny grant of land in Litchfield, where he is 
said to have resided for a short tlme.^*^* Either here 
or at his residence at Pawtucket, he was seen by Daniel 
Gookin, Superintendent of Indians, and the Apostle 
Eliot "in the white winter of his 120th year." ^*^^ 
These are the last authentic data that have come down 
to us concerning Passaconaway, and It Is highly prob- 
able that he passed away soon after. 

There are two interesting legends concerning the 
death of this "wondrous Indian." '^'^^ Some Maine In- 
dians claim that a great man, a man of wonderful bear- 
ing, personality and Influence, although very aged, came 
to them shortly before the breaking out of Philip's 
War. Because of the strange likeness of this man 
to Passaconaway, because he called himself "Bashaba," 
and was a wizard and powwow, some writers believe 
him to have been Passaconaway.^"' A devout and 
earnest Christian, this stranger taught and helped the 
people near the foot of Mount Agamenticus. Because 
of his sterling character, long and active life of use- 

"^ Little: History of Warren. 

"^Osgood: White Mts., 28-9. 

"'The same, 28. 

^•^ See Drake: New Eng. Legends and Folk Lore, 360. 

"' Osgood : White Mts., 28. 



48 Passaconaway 

fulness and religious fervor, he was named "the good 
Saint Aspenquid." 

In 1682, at the age of one hundred and twenty, 
Saint Aspenquid died, reverenced and beloved. For 
miles around there was deep sorrow and mourning. 
In order to pay fitting respect to such a man, prepa- 
rations were made for the largest funeral service ever 
held among these Indians, the grandest one we have 
on record. Runners flew to all points of the compass; 
and nearly all the Indians on the Maine coast, and 
from miles inland, came together at Mount Agamen- 
ticus for the burial. An enormous amount of game 
was brought, 6,711 animals constituting the funeral 
offering. Of the animals brought to the grave and 
funeral feast were "99 black bears, 66 moose, 25 
bucks, 67 does, 240 wolves, 82 wild-cats, 3 catamounts, 
482 foxes, 32 buffaloes, 400 otter, 620 beaver, 1500 
mink, no ferrets, 520 raccoons, 900 musquashes, 501 
fishers, 3 ermines, 58 porcupines, 832 martens, 59 
woodchucks, and 112 rattlesnakes." ^^^ The body was 
borne to the summit of Agamenticus, and laid to rest 
in a rocky cave. On the door of this natural tomb 
these words were rudely carved by the Indians: 

"Present useful; absent wanted; 
Lived desired ; died lamented." ^°^ 

Let us now glance at the second tradition, which was 
the one held by the Pennacooks. Dread of the White 
Mountains seems to have been imbedded in the aborig- 

'"" Osgood : White Mts., 28. 
'■^Thc same. 



Passaconaway, the Man 49 

ines. They hunted, trapped, and marched through the 
numerous valleys and passes, but seldom, if ever, as- 
cended the loftier peaks, especially Mt. Washington, 
the monarch of them all, which they called Mount 
Agiocochook. Its height is so great that vegetation 
ceases to grow far below its craggy summit.^^^ This 
"monarch of mountains" "^ was seldom ascended by 
the Indians. The Great Spirit, while on his earthly 
visits, was supposed to abide on this summit.^ ^- Here 
he revealed himself to his lieutenants — his powwows 
and sachems — especially to one favorite who "com- 
muned with the Great Spirit dreaming and awake." _ 
The tradition runs that there was to be a Council 
of the Gods in heaven and it was Passaconaway's wish 
that he might be admitted to the divine Council Fire ; 
so he informed the Great Spirit of his desire. A stout 
sled was constructed, and out of a flaming cloud 
twenty-four gigantic wolves appeared. These were 
made fast to the sled. Wrapping himself in a bear- 
skin robe, Passaconaway bade adieu to his people, 
mounted the sled, and, lashing the wolves to their ut- 
most speed, away he flew. Through the forests from 
Pennacook and over the wide ice-sheet of Lake Win- 
nepesaukee they sped. Reeling and cutting the wolves 
with his thirty-foot lash, the old Bashaba, once more 
in his eleijient, screamed in ecstatic joy. Down dales, 
across valleys, over hills and mountains they flew, until, 
at last, enveloped in a cloud of fire, this "mightiest 

"""See Starr King: White Hills, 319. 

^^ Byron : Manfred. 

"^Compare Farmer and Moore: Hist. Coll., vol. II, 90. 



50 Passaconaway 

^i Pennacooks" was seen speeding over the rocky 
shoulders of Mount Washington itself; gaining the 
summit, with unabated speed he rode up into the clouds 
and was lost to view — forever! Fitting finale was this 
to the life of a kingly and prophetic man, and as well 
deserved was his triumphant translation as was the 
reputed one of the prophet Elijah. 

Some stanzas from an old poem, "The Winter Eve- 
ning," reveal the awe in which the great Indian was held 
by his white contemporaries : 

"That Sachem once to Dover came, 

From Pennacook, when eve w^as setting in; 
With plumes his locks were dressed, his eyes shot flame. 

He struck his massy club with dreadful din, 

That oft had made the ranks of battle thin, 
Around his copper neck terrific hung 

A tied-together, bear and catam.ount skin, 
The curious fishbones o'er his bosom swung 
And thrice the Sachem danced and thrice the Sachem sung. 

"Strange man was he! Twas said, he oft pursued 

The sable bear, and slew him in his den, 
That oft he howled through many a pathless wood. 

And many a tangled wild, and poisonous fen, 

That ne'er was trod by other mortal men. 
The craggy ledge for rattle-snakes he sought. 

And choked them one by one, and then 
O'ertook the tall gray moose, as quick as thought, 
And the mountain cat he chased, and chasing caught. 

"A wondrous wight! For o'er 'Siogee's ice, 

With brindled wolves all harnessed three and three. 

High seated on a sledge, made in a trice. 
On Mount Agiocochook, of hickory. 
He lashed and reeled, and sung right jollily; 



Passaconaway, the Man 51 

And once upon a car of flaming fire, 

The dreadful Indian shook with fear to see 
The king of Pennacook, his chief, his sire, 
Ride flaming up towards heaven, than any mountain higher." ^^^ 

Before bidding adieu to Passaconaway let us enumer- 
ate a few of the things which enshrine the chieftain's 
memory and perpetuate his name. In the Edson Cem- 
etery, Lowell, Mass., there is a statue, a memorial to 
the Great Bashaba.^^'* In Concord, N. H., there is a 
Passaconaway club-house on the Merrimac; ^^^ and 
there used to be, in 1853, a locomotive of the Concord 
and Northern R. R,^^^ bearing the name of Passacon- 
away. At York Cliffs, Maine, there is a Passaconaway 
Inn. There is. also Passaconaway Cottage In Birch 
Intervale, now Wonalancet.^^'^ Until it was burned, 
in February, 19 16, there was a Passaconaway House 
in our Albany Intervale. Then there is the Passacon- 
away (or Albany, or Swift River) Intervale. And 
our post ofllice, Passaconaway, Carroll County, N. H., 
helps to keep the famous name before the public. 
Grandest monument of all, however, is his mountain, 
of which we shall speak later. Long may the noble 
Bashaba — the noblest of his vanished race — live in 
our minds and hearts ! 

"'Farmer and Moore: Historical Collections, vol. II, 83-92. See 
also Willey: Incidents in White Mountain History, 27. 
'"Granite State Magazine, vol. I, 9, 12. 
"'Lyford: History of Concord, 582-3. 
"° Bouton : History of Concord, 20. 
"^Rollins: Guide to New Hampshire, 132. 



CHAPTER II 

passaconaway's papooses 

THERE are seven of the Bashaba's children on 
record, and we have reason to believe that per- 
haps there were others. He had at least four sons. 
We have fairly complete accounts of the first two of 
these, Nanamocomuck and Wonalancet, but concern- 
ing the other two we know very little except their jaw- 
breaking names — Unanunguoset and Nonatomenut.^ 
I shall speak of the daughters a little farther on. 

Nanamocomuck, the oldest son of Passaconaway, 
became Sachem of the Wachusetts very early, and held 
sway over their somewhat limited domain around the 
mountain in Massachusetts nov\^ known as Mount 
Wachusett. This sachem's oldest son, Kancamagus, 
was the last and most warlike chief of the Pennacooks. 
He is treated in another chapter. Nanamocomuck 
was a peaceful and law-abiding Indian, who at one 
time expressed a desire to adopt the Christian reli- 
gion. He was so abused by the English, however, that 
his friendliness turned to bitter hatred, and he removed 
to Maine to escape their obnoxious proximity.^ Upon 
a certain occasion the Sachem of Wachusett had be- 

^Bouton: Hist, of Concord, 26; Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 64. 
^Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 64, 82-3. 

52 



Passaconaway's Papooses 53 

come responsible for a fellow-tribesman who owed a 
small debt to a white man, John Tinker, and for this 
debt he was imprisoned — "unjustly as it would seem" 
— in Boston. His generous brother, Wonalancet, made 
a great sacrifice — selling his own home — in order to 
redeem this brother.^ Nanamocomuck died quite 
young, while Passaconaway was still Bashaba, so that 
he never became chief of the Pennacook tribe and head 
of the Confederacy, as he would have done had he 
lived longer. 

Of Passaconaway's daughters the name of only one, 
Wenunchus, has been handed down to us. Another 
daughter, probably the oldest, married Nobhow. We 
have as evidence his signature to a petition in behalf 
of his wife, which petition also was signed by the 
sons of Passaconaway. It is highly probable, there- 
fore, that Nobhow signed as the husband of one of 
the Bashaba's daughters.* 

Another daughter, perhaps the youngest, married 
Manatahqua, or Black William, as the English called 
him. In 1630 he was Sachem of Saugus (Lynn) and 
vicinity. Like his father-in-law, he was a faithful 
friend of the whites, of which friendship, however, the 
ungrateful English were unworthy. In November, 
1 63 1, a rascally trader, well versed in the knavery of 
commercialism, was murdered by some Indians who, 
undoubtedly, had been stung into revenge by repeated 
swindlings. The crime took place near the mouth of 
the Saco, and it was a well-known fact that some of 

'Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 65-6. 
^ The same, 64-5. 



54 Passaconaway 

Squidrayset's men, Indians of the vicinity, had commit- 
ted the murder. Over a year later, in January, 1633, 
the unfortunate Black William happened to be near 
this ill-fated spot. A sloop was cruising about the 
coast in search of pirates. Upon nearing the spot 
where the murder had been committed, the white sail- 
ors recalled the incident, and vengeful passions arose 
within them. At that very moment an Indian appeared 
on the shore. It was Black William. They lost no 
time in seizing him and, with no provocation whatever 
on his part, and well knowing that he was personally 
innocent, they hung him.^ 

Many writers, including Judge Potter, believe that 
Wenunchus, the Bashaba's other daughter, married 
Montowampate, the Sachem of Saugus. All historians 
agree that she was the wife of a sachem of Saugus, 
but there seem to have been two brothers, Montowam- 
pate and Winnepurkitt, who held the Saugus sachem- 
ship in the 1620's and 1630's. The weight of the evi- 
dence seems to show that it was the elder of these, 
Montowampate, and not Winnepurkitt, who was the 
husband of Wenunchus. 

Montowampate, whom the English named "Saga- 
more James," ^ was born in 161 1. He was the son of 
Nanepashemet, and was the eldest of three sons. Saga- 
more James went to Governor Winthrop on March 
26, 1 63 1, in order to recover twenty beaver skins of 
which he had been defrauded by an Englishman named 

° Lewis: Hist, of Lynn; Winthrop: Journal, vol. I, 62, 63; Hubbard: 
Hist, of New England, 195. 
"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 65. 



Passaconaway's Papooses 55 

Watts. Watts had returned to England. But the 
governor gave the young sachem a letter to an Influen- 
tial gentleman in London, and it is thought that the 
fearless Indian actually made the trip to England and 
recovered what was due him.''^ 

Considerable hard feeling had arisen over the ques- 
tion of boundaries between the whites and the Indians, 
"but," as Mather piously remarked, "God ended the 
controversy by sending the small-pox among the In- 
dians at Saugus, who were before that time exceed- 
ingly numerous." ^ Montowampate died of this dis- 
ease in December, 1633.^ His two surviving brothers, 
Wonohaquaham and WInnepurkitt, "promised, if ever 
they recovered, to live with the English, and serve their 
God." i« 

The marriage woes of Wenunchus have been Immor- 
talized In Whittier's "Bridal of Pennacook." ^^ Yet 
the story as he gives it Is not historically accurate, 
although it is, as one writer has said, "very good poe- 
try." ^^ For example, the poet calls the bride Weeta- 
moo, while her true name was Wenunchus. The real 
Weetamoo was the wife of Alexander, the brother of 
King Phillp.^^ Moreover, the poet attributes a tragic 
end to the lovelorn bride. Happily, history is some- 

^ Drake: Indians of North America, iii. 
* The same. 

"Young's Chronicles, 303, note; Hubbard: New England, cited in 
Bouton : Hist, of Concord, 34. 

"Drake: Indians of North America, iii. 
" Whittier : The Bridal of Pennacook. 
''See Drake: Old Indian Chronicles. 
'■' Drake: Indians of North America, in. 



S6 Passaconaway 

times kinder than poetry, for, to state the actual facts 
in cold prose, the bride was still living near Salem some 
fifty-eight years later than the time when the poet kills 
off his heroine. ^^ 

Upon Montowampate's arrival at man's estate, he 
won Wenunchus' hand, probably about 1628. Passa- 
conaway sent messengers, inviting all the people of his 
domains to the wedding feast. Legend tells of the 
magnificent banquet following the marriage cere- 
monies, such a feast as only the wealthiest and most 
powerful Indian over-lord in New England could pro- 
vide. All the people were present and the occasion 
was one never to be forgotten. Indian custom de- 
manded that, in addition to the parental feast, the 
groom's people, if the bride and groom were members 
of different tribes, should give another feast when the 
husband brought his bride home to his wigwam. ^'"^ The 
bridal party left Pennacook and set out for Saugus, 
accompanied by an escort of picked warriors provided 
by Passaconaway. Doubtless the customary second 
feast was spread in honor of Wenunchus, now Mrs. 
Montowampate, to welcome her to her new home. 

The newly married couple lived happily together 
for a short time, when Wenunchus experienced an at- 
tack of homesickness, and expressed a desire to visit 
her people at Pennacook. Montowampate consented, 

"For substance of story see Whittier, 466, "Bridal of Pennacook"; 
Drake: New England Legends and Folk Lore, 127-131; Morton: New 
England Canaan, 154-7; Clarke: Poets' New England, 87; Lyford: 
History of Concord. 

"Lyford: Hist, of Concord. 



Passaconaway's Papooses 57 

and ordered a select band of braves to escort her to 
Passaconaway's residence. After a short visit, We- 
nunchus informed her father of her desire to return 
to her husband, whereupon the Bashaba forwarded a 
message to Sagamore James, asking him to send an 
escort for Wenunchus. This seems to have nettled the 
young sachem, for his reply was sharp and haughty. 
He stated that, inasmuch as he had escorted her to 
her father's house in a manner worthy of her social 
rank, now that she wished to return her father should 
provide the necessary escort. Passaconaway, consid- 
ering such an answer to be an insult, seems to have lost 
his temper — a thing we have no record of his doing 
except in this poem — and, standing upon his dignity, 
he stoutly refused to yield. The younger man, like- 
wise, stubbornly refused to recede from the position he 
had taken. 

In all this controversy the wish of Wenunchus seems 
to have been entirely overlooked, for, no matter how 
much both Passaconaway and Montowampate might 
have been willing to do to please her, neither would 
budge an inch on the question concerning the method 
of her rejoining the husband for whom her heart was 
yearning. So she remained at Pennacook, the unthink- 
ing cause and unhappy victim of a men's quarrel. As 
pictured by Whittier, the bride, pining to return, se- 
cretly stole from her father's wigwam, pushed a canoe 
into the Merrimac, and drifted down towards Saga- 
more James's country. But, alas, she was capsized 
in some rapids and lost. So much for poetry. 

The real facts seem to have been that her domestic 



58 Passaconaway 

life was interrupted for some time by this unhappy 
altercation between her husband and the Bashaba.^*^ 
Yet Wenunchus finally was restored to her husband, 
though whether escorted or not we do not know; for 
when a raid was made upon Saugus by eastern Indians, 
in 1632, she was in Montowampate's wigwam with him 
and was left unharmed.^"^ As already stated, Mon- 
towampate died in 1633 of the small-pox. ^^ Accord- 
ing to the historian of Salem, Wenunchus was still 
living in 1686 near Salem.^^ Lake Wenunchus, in 
Lynn, and the ladies' club-house. Camp Weetamoo, in 
Concord, N. H., perpetuate the memory of the Penna- 
cook bride, as do also Mount Weetamoo in Campton, 
and the Weetamoo Branch Path which connects the 
Piper Trail with the Hammond Path on Mount Cho- 
corua and which leads through Weetamoo Glen and 
past Weetamoo Rock.^*^ 

I will briefly narrate the career of Winnepurkitt (or, 
perhaps, Wenepoykin), who is regarded by some 
writers (Drake among them) as the husband of We- 
nunchus. Winnepurkitt was born in 161 6, and, at his 
brother's death in 1633, became Sachem of Saugus. 
He had about forty men under his command. Not only 
did he embrace Christianity, but he wore clothes like 
the English. About 1630 he was proprietor of Deer 
Island in Boston Harbor, and, because of certain other 

"Potter: Hist, of Manchester, 65. 

"See Hubbard: New England, cited in Bouton: History of Con- 
cord, 34. 

^^ Drake: Indians of North America, iii. 

'" Felt: Hist, of Salem, cited in Bouton: Hist, of Concord, 34. 

■"A. M. C. Guide to Paths in the White Mountains, 1916, 310, 314. 



Passaconaway's Papooses 59 

lands which he held, he was known among the whites 
as "George Rumney-marsh." ^^ 

After Philip's War, when hundreds of the partici- 
pants in that fateful outbreak were seized by the vic- 
tors and hung or transported for slaves, this sachem 
was taken. He was sold into slavery in the Barbadoes, 
along with scores of others.^- But an Indian is no 
man's slave, and no bonds can hold him in servitude ! 
Not many years later, large numbers of these unfortu- 
nate red men escaped and, by one means or another, 
made their way back to their native soil. Winnepur- 
kitt was one of those who succeeded in returning; but 
he was not long to enjoy his freedom, for, in 1684, 
at the age of sixty-eight, he died,-^ probably the victim 
of the hardships encountered in slavery or incurred 
during his desperate efforts to escape from bondage. 

Ahawayetsquaine is mentioned as a wife of Winne- 
purkitt and by her he had several children.-^ Some 
writers, who regard Winnepurkitt as the husband of 
Wenunchus, explain his marriage to Ahawayetsquaine 
by assuming that the bridegroom, supposing that old 
Passaconaway had recalled his daughter forever, had 
remarried. Others tell us that he had more than one 
wife. 

To Wonalancet, the best known and most lovable 
son of Passaconaway, we shall devote a separate 
chapter. 

"^ Drake: Indians of North America, iii-ii2. 
'^ Sa"me. 
'"^ Same. 
"^ Same. 



CHAPTER III 

WONALANCET, THE "pLEASANT-BREATHING" 

WONALANCET was born about 1618. He 
was the third child of Passaconaway ; Nana- 
mocomuck, the Sachem of Wachusett, and a sister pre- 
ceding him.^ Had the older brother been alive in 
1669, he would have become chief; but in this year 
we find Wonalancet stepping into the position left va- 
cant by his father's retirement.- 

Resembling Passaconaway in pacific temperament 
and friendliness towards the whites,^ he was named 
"Wonne," meaning "pleasant," and "Nangshonat," 
meaning "to breathe." ^ From this jumble of letters 
and guttural sounds we derive Wonalancet, a more 
pronounceable word signifying "pleasant-breathing." 
Bouton says: "He was wronged by the whites, dis- 
trusted by the Indians ; a wanderer in the wilderness, 
in unknown but remote places from Pennacook; at one 
time a prisoner at Dover; for many years under the 
watch and supervision of Col. Tyng, of Chelmsford; 
and at last he died, like his noble father, in poverty." ^ 

* See chapter on "Passaconavvay's Papooses" in this work. 

' Compare Bureau of American Ethnology, Bull. No. 30, part II, 910, 
Handbook of American Indians. 
"The same. 

* Potter: History of Manchester, 66. 
"Bouton: History of Concord, 27. 

60 



JVonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing** 6i 

He certainly must have possessed a mild and charitable 
temperament, for, on repeated occasions, he was griev- 
ously wronged, and once he was actually wounded, by 
those whom he had befriended.*^ 

Wonalancet pitched his wigwam upon the hill east 
of the Amoskeag Falls, near Manchester. At this 
place were held the council-fires at which all tribal 
affairs were discussed. Also he kept in repair the fort 
at Pennacook as a refuge in case of another Mohawk 
invasion. 

Wonalancet long clung to his ancient religious be- 
liefs, even after his father had accepted Christianity. 
Often he voiced the wish to die, as he had lived, in 
the religion of his ancestors.''' Not until 1674 did he 
accept the faith of the whites, and then only under the 
mild and continued persuasion of John Eliot.* Yet all 
through his sad and troubled life Wonalancet practiced 
the Golden Rule, Love, and Charity.^ 

Almost the first time his name appears he is doing 
a Christian act, sacrificing his ancestral lands, on which 
his own wigwam stood, to raise money to ransom his 
brother, as already narrated. Old Passaconaway's 
heart was rent with sorrow because of the imprison- 
ment in Boston of his eldest son, Nanamocomuck, who 
had, according to findings of the Court, become re- 
sponsible for another Indian's debt to one John Tinker, 

* See Potter: History of Manchester, 66; Lyford: History of Concord, 
quoting New Hampshire Provincial Papers, vol. H, 47. 

'Potter: History of Manchester, 67. 
' Same. 

* Compare LyforcJ: History of Concord. 



62 Passaconaway 

an Englishman. Nanamocomuck was thrown into a 
Boston jail until the debt should be paid.^^ Wona- 
lancet's position was this: his father soon would be 
forced to lay down the Bashabaship because of his 
advanced age, and, with the rightful heir in jail 
indefinitely, Wonalancet would succeed to the coveted 
position. But this "heathen salvage," entirely ignoring 
personal gain, hesitated not; he obtained a permit and 
auctioned off an island — his home — thereby raising 
money to free his brother. 

For many years Wonalancet had full knowledge 
that the Governor of Massachusetts was offering Brit- 
ish gold to encourage another Mohawk raid.^^ His 
people knew it also, yet Wonalancet came in closer 
towards the English and in 1674 even embraced their 
religion. These acts of Wonalancet, under such cir- 
cumstances, caused doubts and anxiety among his peo- 
ple, and large numbers deserted him. But those who 
stood by him realized that, instead of "selling out" his 
people to their enemies, his policy was to strengthen 
them against the Maguas. 

In 1674 Eliot preached to the Pennacooks and the 
Bashaba appeared very grave and sober. Prior to this 
date he had been keeping the Sabbath and attending 
service at Wamesit. "The next day, May 6, 1674, Mr. 
Eliot proposed to him to give an answer concerning his 
praying to God. Wonalancet stood up (in his wig- 

" Potter: History of Manchester, 66-7. 

"Provincial Papers of New Hampshire, vol. I, 174; Belknap: His- 
tory of New Hampshire, vol. I, 126. 



JVonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing" 63 

warn) and after due pause and deliberation gave this 
answer: — 'Sirs, you have been pleased, for years past, 
in your abundant love, to apply yourselves particularly 
unto me and my people, to exhort, press, and persuade 
us to pray to God; I am very thankful to you for your 
pains. I must acknowledge I have all my days been 
used to pass in an old canoe, and now you exhort me 
to leave and change my old canoe and embark in a 
new one, to which I have been unwilling; but now I 
yield myself to your advice and enter into a new canoe 
and do engage to pray to God hereafter.' " ^- 

Gookin writes that Brother Eliot made this reply 
to Wonalancet: "It may be, while he went in his old 
canoe he passed in a quiet stream — but the end 
thereof was death and destruction to soul and body. 
But now he went into a new canoe, perhaps he would 
meet with storms and trials; but yet he should be en- 
couraged to persevere, for the end of the voyage 
should be everlasting rest." "Since that time," Gookin 
continues, "I hear this sachem doth persevere, and is 
a constant and diligent hearer of God's word, and 
sanctifieth the Sabbath, though he doth travel to 
Wamesit meeting every Sabbath, which is about two 
miles; and though sundry of his people have deserted 
him since he subjected to the gospel, yet he continues 
and persists." ^^ 

The following year, 1675, came King Philip's War. 
Temptations to join the son of Massasoit were strong. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 69. 

"Gookin: Historical Collections of the Indians in New England, in 
Collections of Massachusetts Historical Society, vol. I, 187. 



64 Passaconaway 

Repeatedly embassies were sent to Wonalancet to per- 
suade him to join the beUigerent Indians. With these 
emissaries buzzing among his people, all too frequently 
persuading individuals to join the luckless cause, and 
with the English increasingly distrusting the friendship 
of the loyal Indians, the pacific chieftain had a try- 
ing time.^* He was too much of a man to retract 
his pledge of submission to the English Government, 
and too much of a patriot to fight against his own 
race, relatives and friends.^^ Fully cognizant of his 
predicament, he realized that he must pursue his pa- 
cific policy and, keeping faith with his conscience, must 
remain neutral. He realized also that, in order to 
hold his subjects in check, he must withdraw from the 
neighborhood of the whites, who were butchering his 
kinsmen unscrupulously; while against such treatment 
he was unable to offer effectual protest. So, taking all 
their crops and belongings, he and his people removed 
from Wamesit (Tewksbury, Eliot's fifth town of pray- 
ing Indians) to the wilderness of Pennacook.^*^ 

They had not been gone long before the "Great and 
General Court," fearing that their absence was a sign 
of hostility, became uneasy. About the first of Oc- 
tober, 1675, the authorities sent a runner or two to 
the fugitive Bashaba, stating that if he would bring his 
people back and live among the whites at Wamesit, 
the protection of the English would be extended to 

"Lyford: History of Concord; Potter: History of Manchester, 70. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 73. 

"History of Concord; Potter: History of Manchester, 70. 



Wonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing" 65 

them.^'^ The messengers also brought Wonalancet a 
written order from Governor Leverett, giving a safe 
conduct for a party of six Indians, to meet at Lieu- 
tenant Hinchman's house at Naumkeag (Salem), to 
confer with Captain Gookin and John Eliot, who were 
empowered to form a treaty with Wonalancet such as 
Passaconaway had made a few years before. ^^ 

Right here I must insert an account of the fate of 
some praying Indians then living at Wamesit, the place 
where Wonalancet and his people were expected to 
enjoy the protection of the government, if they re- 
turned, "Among the colonists there were not a few 
who desired to stir up an excitement against the 
Wamesit Indians, residing below Pawtucket Falls, at 
the mouth of the Concord River, They were accused 
of burning a stack of hay belonging to James Rich- 
ardson (unjustly as it would seem), and thirty-three 
able-bodied men were taken to Boston to answer to 
the charge, being all of the tribe except women, chil- 
dren, old men and cripples. Three of them were con- 
demned to be sold as slaves and the others set free. 
As they passed through Woburn, under the charge of 
Lieut. Richardson, they were fired upon by one of a 
train band exercising at the same time in the village — 
and one of the Indians was killed. The man who fired 
was named Knight, The Indian killed was related 
to the principal Indians of Natick and Wamesit. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 71; see Mass. Archives; Lyford: 
History of Concord. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 71; compare Drake: Indians of 
North America, 280. 



66 Passaconaway 

Knight was arrested and tried for the murder, and, as 
Gookin says, 'was acquitted by the Jury, much con- 
trary to the mind of the bench; the Jury alleged they 
wanted evidence, and the prisoner plead that the gun 
went off by accident, indeed witnesses were mealy 
mouthed in giving evidence. The Jury was sent out 
again and again by the Judges who were much unsat- 
isfied with the Jury's proceedings; but the Jury did 
not see cause to alter their mind and so the fellow 
was cleared.' " ^^ 

On November 15 Lieut. Richardson's barn burned 
down. No evidence could be found as to the cause 
of the conflagration, but it was attributed to the 
Wamesits. Fourteen of the Chelmsford men — no 
doubt properly inflamed with patriotism and rum — 
marched to the camp of the Indians. The latter were 
peremptorily ordered out of their wigwams, where- 
upon two whites fired upon them, killing a boy and 
wounding five women and children. The two "pa- 
triots," Lorgin and Robbins, were seized and later a 
trial was held. The honorable Jury found them "Not 
Guilty," "to the great grief" (to quote Gookin) "and 
trouble generally of the magistracy and ministry and 
other wise and godly men." ^" 

On February 6, 1676, having taken to the woods In 
search of Wonalancet, having lost their way and many 
lives by hardship and starvation, and at length being 
forced to return to Chelmsford, the Wamesits peti- 
tioned to be removed from their reservation to a 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 73. 
" The same, 74. 



JVonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing*' 67 

"safer" location. ^^ The government was too busy to 
notice this humble petition. In desperation these In- 
dians left, bag and baggage, and retreated to the 
wilderness and to the French. The departure was 
necessarily made in haste so that they were forced 
to leave behind five or six of their aged and blind 
kinsmen. They left these unfortunates in a large wig- 
wam. The next day some Chelmsford men found 
these, and, setting fire to the wigwam, they roasted the 
occupants alive.^^ 

When the Wamesits were asked concerning their 
abrupt departure they sent the following letter to Lieut. 
Hinchman: "To Mr. Thos. Henchman of Chelmsford. 
I Numphow, and John Line, we send the messenger to 
you again with this answer, we cannot come home 
again, we go towards the French, we go where Wona- 
lancet is ; the reason is, we went away from our home, 
we had help from the Council, but that did not do us 
good, but we had wrong by the English, idly. The 
reason is we went away from the English, for when 
there was any harm done in Chelmsford, they laid 
it to us and said we did it, but we know ourselves we 
never did harm the English, but we go away peaceably 
and quietly. 3dly. As to the Island" (the Government 
had reserved one for their use) "we say there is no 
safety for us for many English be not good, and may 
be they come to us and kill us, as in the other case. 
We are not sorry for what we leave behind, but are 
sorry the English have driven us from our praying to 

"" Potter: History of Manchester, 75. 
^ The same, 75-6. 



68 Passaconaway 

God and from our teacher (Mr. Eliot). We did be- 
gin to understand a little praying to God. We thank 
humbly the Council. We remember our love to Mr. 
Henchman and James Richardson. 

"The mark of L John Line, 1 their 
"The mark of X Numphow, J Rulers." ^^ 

But to return to Wonalancet. Runners had been 
despatched to invite him to come and live with the 
English at Wamesit. The messengers reached the 
tribe, but did not see its Bashaba.^'* Leaving the writ- 
ten message, they returned. Wonalancet deemed it 
prudent to retreat deeper into the forests. With his 
band rent by discord and suspicion, his adherents now 
numbered less than one hundred.-'' The General Court 
misinterpreted their movement and a rumor spread 
that "at Pennacook there were mighty bands of In- 
dians gathering for mischief." -^ 

Captain Mosely, fresh from his victories in Philip's 
War, was ordered to march on Pennacook, and, seiz- 
ing the fort, to disperse the gathered hordes. Wona- 
lancet had been too honorable to break faith with the 
English during the recent strife, yet they were now 
ordering troops to pillage and slay his people. Wona- 
lancet learned of their approach and led his followers 
into the swamps and marshes, where, from behind 

^^ Potter: History of Manchester, 75; quo. from Coll. Amer. Ant. 
Soc, vol. II, 483. 

"* Drake: Indians of North America, 280; Lyford: History of Con- 
cord. 

^^ Drake: Indians of North America, 280. 

** Lyford: History of Concord. 



JVonalancet, the ''Pleasant-Breathing" 69 

trees, they could watch every move of the whites.-" 
The soldiers destroyed their wigwams and winter's 
supply of dried fish. Many braves urged Wonalancet 
to fight the invaders, for, from their ambush, the In- 
dians could have cut down the white soldiers with but 
little damage to themselves.-^ Then, too, there was 
that strongest of all arguments — an Indian maiden will 
not accept her lover until he can display the scalp of 
an enemy.^^ Many of the young braves had had no 
chance, at least openly, to kill an enemy during the 
latter half of Passaconaway's reign. Here was their 
opportunity. Moreover, not only had the Pennacooks 
been injured and insulted, but they were facing actual 
starvation.^*^ But the sachem, probably with Passa- 
conaway's farewell speech ringing in his filial memory, 
held the fire-eaters in check, and suffered not one brave 
to show himself or fire a shot.^^ 

Wonalancet did not check the march of his refugees 
until the headwaters of the Connecticut River had been 
gained.^- Then only did they settle down, far from 
English wrong-doers, yet ever facing death, for the 
winter was a terrible one. With scantiest supply of 
food, their numbers presently were swelled by the 
arrival of the half-starved Wamesit refugees. All this 
trial and suffering had come to the Pennacooks simply 

^' Drake: Indians of North America, 279-80. Potter: History of 
Manchester, 72. Lyford: History of Concord. 
^^Lyford: History of Concord. 

™ Compare John Fiske: Dutch and Quaker Colonies, vol. I, 316-317. 
""Potter: History of Manchester, 72-3. 
"Drake: Indians of North America, 279-280. 
^^ Potter: History of Manchester, 72; Lyford: History of Concord. 



70 Pas sac on aw ay 

because their leader, from conscientious scruples, was 
endeavoring to be non-partisan and peaceable. The 
climax came in the September of 1676, after the close 
of Philip's War. Beaten and disbanded Indians fled 
in all directions. The Provincial Government, flushed 
with victory, issued orders to seize all red men of 
inimical or doubtful status. Those captured were 
tried at Boston and several were convicted of murder 
and were hung: the remainder were transported. 

Peace now being established, the Pennacooks re- 
turned to their camping grounds. Wonalancet and 
Squando's names are found on a treaty signed at 
Major Waldron's. The signing of this treaty by 
Squando marked the real end of the conflict, for 
Philip's War had had a "bloody sequel" in Maine. ^^ 

The Indians who had cast in their lot with Philip 
were tracked and hunted down.^^ Hundreds of these 
unfortunates had worked their way northward and were 
enjoying the hospitality afforded by their kinsmen on 
the Merrimac, the Pennacooks and others. They 
hoped that time would erase their guilt and that, by 
mingling with these friendly Indians, they would be 
accounted as adopted into these tribes. ^^ Not so did 
it prove! The Court learned of their presence and 
sent companies of soldiers under Captain Syll and 
Captain Hawthorne after them. On the evening 
of September sixth they arrived at Dover. That 
evening there were about four hundred Indians who 

** See Potter : History of Manchester, 77 ; Lyford : History of Concord. 

"Lyford: History of Concord. 

'"Compare Drake: Indians of North America, 280. 



JVonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing" 71 

had come in under Major Waldron's safe conduct to 
trade at his post. Waldron, acting under the author- 
ity of the government, had given his promise of pro- 
tection to the Pennacooks. Yet the "strange Indians" 
must be taken. The soldiers were for falling upon 
them at once, but Waldron dissuaded them from that. 
The trader had been unscrupulous in his dealings — 
had let his fist weigh as only one pound against many 
fine skins and had sold the natives rum and cheap 
cloth — yet this time he posed as a friend of the Pen- 
nacooks. He knew that if the soldiers made a gen- 
eral attack not only Pennacooks but many white men 
also would fall. Hence he insisted that the refu- 
gees should be taken by strategy.^*^ 

Next morning the news was spread among the sav- 
ages that a great game was to be played with them. 
The unsuspecting redskins were delighted over the 
prospect, especially when the promise of a cannon was 
made them. All was explained to them, — how the con- 
testants were to divide into two parties, one Indian 
and one white, and have a drill followed by a sham 
fight. "Tradition says that the Indians were fur- 
nished with a cannon mounted upon wheels, which 
pleased them very much. They were Ignorant of its 
management, and were furnished with gunners by the 
English. The Indians manned the drag ropes, and 
the sham fight commenced. In changing the direc- 
tion of the cannon, the English gunners ranged the piece 
along a file of Indians upon one of the drag ropes, and 
fired, killing and wounding a large number. This 

'* Potter: History of Manchester, 78. 



72 Passaconaway 

was attributed to accident." ^"^ 

In the midst of this game the Indians were sur- 
rounded, and not until it was too late did the red 
warriors perceive the trap that had been set for them. 
The whites, with loaded rifles, closed in upon the hap- 
less Indians and disarmed them. The "strange In- 
dians" were put in one group and the friendly ones 
in another. The Pennacooks were allowed to go free. 
The others were marched off to Boston. Here, after 
trial, six were condemned and hung. The others 
(about two hundred in number) were forced aboard 
ships and later sold as slaves in the Barbadoes.^^ Such 
trade was lucrative, and it seems quite probable that 
many more Indians were sold than those who had been 
actually hostile. Indeed Winnepurkitt, Passacona- 
way's son-in-law, was among those sold into slavery, 
although his participation in the conflict seems 
doubtful.2^ 

This deception greatly enraged the Pennacooks and 
they pointed to it as an insult to their honor, for it 
had been under their hospitality that the "strange In- 
dians" had come into Dover, and the hosts helplessly 
had looked on while their guests were swept away to 
death or slavery. Silently they nursed their grievance 
until, many years later, the opportunity came to "cross 
out their account." *^ 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 78. 

^'Charlton: New Hampshire As It Is, 28-9; Potter: History of Man- 
chester, 78 ; Lyford : History of Concord ; Bureau of American Eth- 
nology Bull. 30, part II, 225, Handbook of American Indians. 

"'Drake: Indians of North America, H2. 

'"Lyford: History of Concord. 



IFonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing'* 73 

Many tribesmen now abandoned the unresisting 
Wonalancet and went to the French at St. Francis. 
By order of the Court, the decimated Pennacooks were 
transferred to Wickasaukee and Chehnsford, where 
they were under the supervision of Mr. Jonathan Tyng 
of Dunstable."*^ But the Bashaba had Httle corn, he 
dwelt on an unsettled frontier, and he was wofully 
poverty-stricken. Thus did the forest king maintain 
an uncomfortable and bitter existence. 

The Mohawks again went on the warpath. On 
March 15, 1677, a party was seen by Wonalancet's 
son, at whom as many as twenty shots were fired, 
though he escaped uninjured. A second time the 
dreaded Maguas appeared in the neighborhood of 
Cocheco (Dover), but were driven off by the Penna- 
cooks with some assistance from the whites. ^^ 

Who can wonder that Wonalancet chafed within 
the narrow limits of his reservation?*^ In all proba- 
bility his wife — related to some Indians whose home 
was in Canada — notified these relatives of her hus- 
band's straits. For, during September, 1677, a party 
of these Indians fell upon Wonalancet's band and, 
partly by force and partly by persuasion, the unhappy 
Pennacooks were led captive to St. Francis. Under 
cover of this show of force, the Bashaba was able to 
escape from the English without endangering himself 
or his people.'** 

"Lyford: History of Concord. 

"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 125-6. 

^^ See Potter: History of Manchester, 79. 

" Lyford : History of Concord. 



74 Passaconaway 

The captives made their home at St. Francis, al- 
though at times sundry of them returned for short 
visits to their native soil, New Hampshire. This with- 
drawal was considered by many of the confederated 
tribes as an abdication of the Bashabaship. Hence, 
from this time on, we find that Kancamagus was the 
Bashaba in fact, if not in name. 

Of the later years of Wonalancet's life little is 
known, until 1685, when, upon report of his "fierce 
and warlike" presence at Pennacook, he came to Dover, 
where he assured the government of New Hampshire 
(which now had become a Royal Province) that there 
were at Pennacook only twenty-four Indians beside 
squaws and papooses, and that this paltry band had 
no intention of making war upon the English. His 
name is not aflSxed to the treaty of this year, which 
seems to prove that he was no longer the recognized 
leader. Four years later, in 1689, he repeated his 
assurances of peaceful intentions. He is said to have 
again returned to St. Francis shortly after. ^^ 

But the White Mountains and the fertile fields south 
of them were dear to Wonalancet's heart; he could not 
be exiled from them, and, nine years later, he was 
again living under the care of Mr. Tyng, this time 
at Wamesit. The old sachem is reported as having 
transferred his lands, the last of his once vast domain, 
to his keeper. Deeds bearing dates of 1696 and 1697 
are found, made out to Mr. Tyng.'*^ 

*"Lyford: History of Concord, citing from New Hampshire Provin- 
cial Papers, H, 47. 

^° Lyford : History of Concord. 



IFonalancet, the "Pleasant-Breathing" 75 

During this last sojourn, Wonalancet visited his be- 
loved preacher, Rev. Mr. Fiske of Chelmsford. Upon 
inquiring how the remaining Pennacooks had behaved 
during the Indian wars, the clergyman replied that 
"they had kept the peace and prospered, for which 
the Lord be thanked." "And me next," modestly 
added Wonalancet, well knowing that it was he him- 
self who had drilled this peaceful policy into the rest- 
less aborigines."*^ 

At this time he was about eighty years old. 
Whether he went back to St. Francis or died in his 
own country is not definitely known; the time of his 
death also is unknown. He is believed to have been 
buried in the private cemetery of the Tyng family, in 
Tyngsboro, Mass.^^ 

Geo. Waldo Browne says: "It is pleasant to note 
that the Massachusetts Society of Colonial Dames have 
placed on one of the boulders lying near the colonial 
mansion house occupied by Colonel Jonathan Tyng, 
where the" (next to the) "last Pennacook sachem 
passed his closing years, a memorial tablet properly 
inscribed." "^^ His name also is attached to a club 
and clubhouse in Concord, N. H., to a little White 
Mountain hamlet — formerly known as Birch Inter- 
vale — and Post Office; and, in the glorious old days 
when boys used to collect the names of engines, "Wona- 
lancet" was the name of a locomotive on the Concord 

^' Drake: Indians of North America, 282; Potter: History of Man- 
chester, 79. 

"* Granite State Magazine, vol. I, 9. 
■" The same. 



76 Passaconaway 

and Northern Railroad.^" On August 13th, 181 1, the 
ship "Wonolanset," owned by Captain Reuben Shap- 
ley, was burned at Shapley's wharf, Portsmouth, one 
hour after its arrival from sea.^^ In the summer of 
19 1 6 the old Tyng mansion in Tyngsboro was opened 
as the Wannalancit Inn. Interesting descriptions of 
this historic garrison-house may be found in the Bos- 
ton Trwueller of July 3, 19 16, and the Youth's Com- 
panion of August 31, 19 1 6. But a far better me- 
morial to the "pleasant-breathing" Wonalancet was 
erected by Miss Lucy Larcom when she bestowed 
upon one of the gentler hills of the Sandwich Range 
the name of this pacific, conscientious and ill-fated 
chief. 

°"Bouton: History of Concord, 20; Granite State Magazine, I, 9; 
Lyford: History of Concord. 

"Adams: Annals of Portsmouth, 352. 



CHAPTER IV 

HOW KANCAMAGUS CROSSED OUT THE ACCOUNT 

SHORTLY before 1683 there loomed into promi- 
nence a man very different in temperament and 
character from Passaconaway and Wonalancet, namely, 
Kancamagus (pronounced Kankamaugus) , a nephew 
of Wonalancet and grandson of Passaconaway. "Kan- 
camagus, commonly in the histories called Hogkins, 
Hawkins, or Hakins, was an artful, persevering, faith- 
ful man, as long as he could depend upon the English 
for protection." ^ He possessed more fiery passions 
and far less self-control than his predecessors in the 
Pennacook chieftaincy. But Passaconaway's great ex- 
ample was still potent among the New Hampshire 
Indians, and at the beginning of Kancamagus' sagamon- 
ship we find him a peaceful and law-abiding man. 

The father of this powerful Indian was Nanamoco- 
muck, the oldest son of Passaconaway. Strangely 
enough, instead of the title passing through Wonalan- 
cet to his son it reverted back to the son of the elder 
chief, long dead. Nanamocomuck, already mentioned, 
was Sachem of Wachusett and was at one time un- 
justly, as it proved, imprisoned in Boston.^ Being 
more savage than his younger brother, the "gentle- 

^ Drake: Indians of North America, 297. 
^Potter: History of Manchester, 67. 

77 



78 Passaconaway 

breathing" Wonalancet, possessing a temperament 
more like that which Kancamagus later showed, Nana- 
mocomuck changed from a staunch friend of the Eng- 
lish to a bitter hater. He finally abandoned his pacific 
people who dwelt at the foot of Mount Wachusett in 
Massachusetts and joined the Androscoggins, in 
Maine. ^ We know not whether he joined a band 
inimical to the English or not; we only know that he 
died among these people before Passaconaway ab- 
dicated the throne. Thus Kancamagus, far from the 
restraining and softening influence of Passaconaway, 
and being brought up with the warlike ideals of his 
father and among a people far more savage than the 
Pennacooks, might be expected to favor a more rad- 
ical war-policy than that of his ancestral tribe. Nat- 
urally enough, under the peaceful and inactive rule 
of Wonalancet, many of the more fiery of the Penna- 
cooks had sundered their hereditary ties and joined 
the warlike Maine Indians."* 

In 1684 Kancamagus succeeded to the throne of 
the Indian confederacy and brought with him a throng 
of restless and vengeful Androscoggins. The news 
spread far and wide. From many quarters discon- 
tented Indians flocked to the standard of the new 
chieftain, who was a man of powerful physique and 
compellingly magnetic personality. He was a born 
leader and quickly gathered together the remnants of 

^Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Edition, 133; com- 
pare Potter: History of Manchester, 82-3. 

''Compare Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Edition, 
133- 



How Kancamagus Crossed out the Account 79 

the once powerful Pennacooks. Restless men came 
from all directions; "strange Indians" returning 
from slavery naturally gravitated Kancamagusward.^ 
It is interesting to note how, after being sold as slaves 
in the Barbadoes, these sons of the forest had managed 
to work their way back to their native soil. In this 
year, 1684, then, we find Kancamagus heading a mot- 
ley group of savages. 

The English, aware of the lawless bands gathering 
at Pennacook, instead of preventing the coming storm, 
in reality hastened it, for their government again re- 
newed its perfidious negotiations with the Mohawks.^ 
The Pennacooks knew that the Mohawks were being 
hired to annihilate all the Indians from Narragansett, 
R. I., to Brunswick, Maine.^ This alone, even with- 
out the vengeance the Indians were nursing against 
the whites for the Sham Fight treachery, would be suf- 
ficient to make them hate the white usurpers. Although 
terrible in revenge, Kancamagus did not deliberately 
stir up war. He was a staunch ally so long as the 
whites gave him a measure of justice; but when in- 
sulted, abused, and injured, he let loose the furies of 
war and reveled in his gory revenge. This new Ba- 
shaba, who, as it proved, was to be the last of the 
Bashabas, was not a man to be abused with impunity. 

No English policy could have been more perfidious 
than this buying up of the Maguas to raid the New 
England Indians. Little wonder, then, that a few 

'Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Edition, 133. 

'See Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 29. 

'Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Edition, 133. 



8o Passaconaway 

years later we find Kancamagus fighting under the 
"table cloth" standard of the French. Word came 
back from the Mohawks that they intended to kill all 
the Indians from Mount Hope to Pegypscott.^ The 
Pennacooks immediately rushed to their stronghold at 
Concord, where, many, many years before, the Mo- 
hawks had been decisively repulsed. The Bashaba 
made a trip to New Castle, in order that by strengthen- 
ing his alliance with the English — not that he hated the 
English any less ^ — he might protect his people who 
lived on the frontier from the dreaded Mohawks. 

"On the 15th of May, 1685, he addressed the fol- 
lowing letter to Governor Cranfield: 

" 'Honur Governor, my friend. 

" 'You my friend, I desire your worship and your 
power, because I hope you can do some great mat- 
ters this one, I am poor and naked and I have no 
men, at my place, because I afriad allwayes Mohogs he 
will kill me every day and night. If your worship 
when please pray help me you no let Mohogs kill me 
at my place at Malamake rever called Panukkog and 
Natukkog. I will submit your worship and your power. 
And now I want powder and such alminishon, shott 
and guns because I have forth at my horn and I plant 
theare. 

" 'This all Indian hand, but pray you do consider 
your humble Servant, " 'John Hogkins.' " ^^ 

* Potter: History of Manchester, 87. 
'Belknap: Hist, of N. H., Farmer's Ed., 133. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 84-5; see Files in Secretary's Office, 
N. H. 



How Kancamagiis Crossed out the Account 8i 

Underneath his name are the signatures or marks 
of fourteen subordinate Indians. 

We find the Bashaba sending a second letter to the 
governor on the same day : 

"may 15th, 1685. 

''Honour Mr. Governor, now this day I com your 
house, I want se you and I bring my hand at before 
you I want shake hand to you if worship when please, 
then you Receive my hand, then shake your hand and 
my hand. You my friend because I Remember at old 
time when live my grant father and grant mother then 
Englishmen com this country, then my grant father 
and Englishmen, they make a good gouenant, they 
friend allwayes, my grant father leuing at place called 
malamake Rever, other name hef Natukkog and Pa- 
nukkog, that one Rever great many names and I bring 
you this few skins at this first time I will giue you my 
friend, this all Indian hand 

"John X. Hawkins, 

"Sagamon." 1^ 

Several Indian signatures or marks follow. 

After this second note Kancamagus was recognized. 
He was given a message expressing Cranfield's re- 
grets at being unable to see him because of "out of 
town" business. Mr. Mason had been left as acting 
Governor In Cranfield's absence. The neglected 
Kancamagus, reasoning with the simplicity of a child, 
was deeply grieved at this "putting off," and the next 
day sent this appealing note to the acting governor: 

" Same reference as the other letter. 



82 Passaconaway 

"mr mason pray I want Speake you a few words 
if your worship when please because I come parpos I 
will speake this Gouernor but he go away So he Say 
at last night and so far I understand this Gouernor 
his power that your power now, so he speake his own 
mouth, pray if you take what I want, pray com to me 
because I want go horn this day 

"your humble servant 
"John Hogkins, Indian Sogamon.^^ 

"may i6th 1685." 

It is very probable that the mention of beaver skins 
was the inducement which caused the governor to notify 
the Bashaba of an engagement and to tell him of Mr. 
Mason's position. Both Cranfield and Mason knew 
well what proposition Kancamagus would make. The 
Bashaba had a letter all prepared for his "worship's" 
consideration, praying that, besides receiving protection 
from the Maguas, Cranfield would not have his In- 
dians thrown into prison for imbibing too freely of the 
"fire-water," but allow him (Kancamagus) to punish 
them, which he would surely do if notified of their 
drunkenness.^^ This proposal was one not to the liking 
of the official; so it seems that the pilgrim had his 
long walk for nothing. Bringing valuable gifts of furs 
from Pennacook, he was treated with sad neglect and 
never even given a real hearing. Such was the Eng- 
lish way of accepting the friendship of a neighbor who, 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 86; see Files in Secretary's Office, 
N. H. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 86. 



How Kancamagus Crossed out the Account 83 

at this time, was sincerely inclined towards peace. It 
is a well-proven fact that Cranfield traveled as far 
as Albany, N. Y., in order, as he expressed it, to pur- 
chase peace with English gold, by bringing against the 
Pennacooks enough Mohawks to destroy them.^^ Kan- 
camagus, neglected and enraged, went back to his 
people. Many writers think that before this affair 
his friendship with the whites had been sincere,^ ^ but 
from now on he nursed his grievances and only awaited 
the time when he should drink from the sweet cup of 
revenge. 

Gathering together all his subjects, he plunged 
deeper into the wilderness. Some of the Maine In- 
dians and tribes on the seaboard joined him.^^ The 
Court became greatly alarmed. The officials realized 
that here was a man who would resent an insult. They 
therefore sent messengers asking the reason of the 
Pennacooks' withdrawal. Kancamagus sent back the 
answer that it was the fear of the "Mohogs" which 
caused their flight to the fort. They were then asked 
why they did not come in and mingle with the English 
and thereby be protected by them. To this the Ba- 
shaba answered that if they did this the Mohawks 
would hurt the English on their account,^" which of 
course they would not wish. At length they were 
persuaded to return and an agreement was reached. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 84. 

^^ Compare Osgood: White Mountains, 26; Potter: History of Man- 
chester, 86. 

'* Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Edition, 133. 
"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 182-3. 



84 Passaconaway 

"Their chiefs being assembled with the council of 
New Hampshire and a deputation from the province 
of Maine, a treaty was concluded, wherein it was stip- 
ulated, that all future personal injuries on either side 
should, upon complaint, be immediately redressed; 
that information should be given of approaching dan- 
ger from enemies; that the Indians should not remove 
their families from the neighborhood of the English 
without giving timely notice, and if they did that it 
should be taken as a declaration of war; and, that 
while these articles were observed, the English would 
assist and protect them against the Mohawks and all 
other enemies." ^^ This treaty was apparently kept 
by both sides until it expired, four years later. ^^ For 
some reason the energetic Governor Cranfield was re- 
moved and Walter Barefoot, whom we find negotiat- 
ing this treaty,^*^ was unable to secure the alliance of 
the Mohawks. 

In the year 1689, at the expiration of the treaty, 
"King William's War" was declared between the 
French and the English colonists. ^^ Naturally this — a 
border Indian war — involved the Pennacooks. Kan- 
camagus had allied with himself such noted warriors 
as Paugus, Metambomet, Mesandowit, and Wahowah 
(or Wahwah).^^ This Wahowah, sometimes known 
as Hope-Hood, was a very "Indian-rubber Devil," 

"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 182-3. 
"Potter: History of Manchester, 89. 
"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 182-3. 
"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Ed., 133. 
"Compare Potter: History of Manchester, 90-1. 



How Kancamagus Crossed out the Account 85 

capable of mischief of every description, one who could 
not be killed or in any way checked in his bloody 
career, "a tiger, and one of the most bloody warriors 
of the age." ^^ 

As the treaty had expired, the Indians were not dis- 
posed to form another alliance. They were nursing 
their wrongs. The son-in-law of Passaconaway was 
still a slave in the Barbadoes;-* the English had de- 
liberately bartered with the Mohawks, the natural 
enemies of the Pennacooks; they had treated the 
Bashaba with neglect; even now they were hunting 
for one of Kancamagus' subjects — Hope-Hood — and 
lastly, although not least by any means, some of the 
"strange Indians" had returned from slavery and were 
raging for the blood of their betrayer.-^ Then, too, it 
is highly probable that a little urging on the part 
of the French was not without effect.-*^ Hence, in this 
year, when the Andros government had been wrecked 
by revolution and when the governments of both New 
Hampshire and Massachusetts seem to have swayed 
on their very unsteady foundations,^'^ we find news 
leaking out that Kancamagus was "the principal enemy 
and designer" -® of a bloody plot against the English 
and that he had threatened "to knock on the head 
whosoever came to treat, whether English or In- 

" Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Edition, 133. 
" Potter : History of Manchester, 90. 

"^ Drake: Indians of North America, 298; compare Belknap: History 
of New Hampshire, Farmer's Ed., 133. 
^^ Same reference in Belknap. 
" Same. 
^^ Potter: History of Manchester, 91-2. 



86 Pas sac on away 

dian." -® Messengers were sent up to Pennacook to 
sieze Hope-Hood but they were unsuccessful.^*^ 

In extenuation of the Pennacooks' growing hostility 
to the English, Potter says: "What class or nation 
of whites at the present time would suffer such wrongs 
to go unavenged ! And should we expect more of 
patience from the rude untutored Red Man !" ^^ There- 
fore we must not judge Kancamagus and his warriors 
too harshly. In the bloody affair at Cocheco we shall 
find the dusky avengers hurting few, if any, besides 
those against whom they had personal grudges. 

Although great secrecy was observed, the news 
leaked out, and two friendly Indians, Job Maramas- 
quand and Peter Muckamug, speedily carried it to Col. 
Hinchman and to Hon. Danforth, of the council; but, 
probably on account of the unsettled condition of the 
government at the time, no action was taken until it 
was too late. ("The friendly warning is said to have 
come from Wonalancet." •'^-) On the twenty-seventh 
of June a messenger was despatched to warn Waldron 
of the proposed onslaught. This messenger was un- 
avoidably detained at Newbury Ferry and arrived at 
Dover on the twenty-eighth, just after the Indians had 
done their work. ^^ 

Miss Mary H, Wheeler has put into verse her con- 



^^ Potter: History of Manchester, 91-2. 

^"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, Farmer's Ed., 133. 
^^ Potter: History of Manchester, 90. 

'^ S. A. Drake: The Border Wars of New England, 22, note. 
''Potter: History of Manchester, 91-3; New Hampshire State Papers, 
XIX, 319. 



How Kancamagiis Crossed out the Account 87 

ception of the events which transpired in the camp of 
Kancamagus on the eve of the massacre: 

"WARSONG OF KANCAMAGUS (JUNE, 1689) 

"At the old fort in Pennacook 

The Indian sachems met. 
An insult had been given 

Which no red man could forget. 
Sir Edmund had attacked their friend 

And plundered without law; 
And in the solemn Council 

Each voice had been for war. 

"Ignoring former treaties 

Which their allies ne'er sustained, 
Of slight, and fraud, and falsehood, 

And unfairness they complained. 
Their mutual accusations 

Made a list both dark and long. 
And each could well of insult tell, 

And individual wrong. 

"The council had declared for war, 

And formal invitation 
Had been to all the warriors given. 

According to their station. 
And now, in circles seated. 

With the chiefs and braves within 
The stern-faced red man waited 

For the war-dance to begin. 

"Then up rose Kancamagus, 

And ferocious was his air; 
High up he swung his hatchet. 

And his brawny arm was bare; 
The eagle's feather trembled 
In his scalp-lock as he sang, 
And far across the Merrimac 

The Indian war-song rang. 



It I 



Passaconaway 

'War! War! Lift up the hatchet! 

Bring scalping knife and gun, 
And give no rest to foot or breast 

Till warfare is begun ! 
Look where the braves are gathered 

Like the clouds before a flood ! 
And Kancamagus' tomahawk 

Is all athirst for blood! 

'My fathers fought the Tarratines, 

And Mohawks fierce and strong, 
And ever on the war-path 

Their whoop was loud and long. 
And Kancamagus' daring 

And feats of vengeance bold, 
Among the Amariscoggins 

Have been full often told. 

'Will the warrior's arm be weaker, 

And will his courage fail. 
When in grounds well known he shall 
strike his own. 

And his people's foe assail? 
Will the son of Nanamocomuck 

Stand trembling like a squaw 
When the Sagamons around him 

Are all hungering for war? 

War! War! The foe are sleeping. 

And the scent of blood is sweet, 
And the woods about Cocheco 

Await the warrior's feet! 
From silent ambush stealing 

We will capture, slaj^, and burn. 
Till those plundering, cheating English 

Shall the red man's vengeance learn ! 

'The chiefs about Piscataqua 
Refused my proffered hand; 

The bad whites at Cocheco 
By treachery took our band. 



How Kancamagus Crossed out the Account 89 

They treated us like reptiles, 

But the red man's day is nigh ; 
On Kancamagus' wigwam pole 

Their bloody scalps may dry!' " ^^ 

Two squaws appeared at Major Waldron's block- 
house and applied for permission to sleep there. ^^ As 
such hospitality seems to have been a common custom, 
no objections were offered. Two squaws were also 
unsuspectingly admitted Into each of the houses of 
Heard, Otis, and the elder Coffin. Before retiring the 
families, upon request, showed the squaws how to open 
the gates, in case they should wish to leave In the 
night. Mesandowit, a chief very friendly to the 
whites, was accustomed to sup frequently with Major 
Waldron. On this fateful evening he was a guest at 
the trader's table. During the meal the chieftain al- 
luded to the numerous Indians about Dover and said: 
"Major Waldron, what would you do if the strange 
Indians should come?" "I could assemble an hundred 
men by lifting up my finger," carelessly replied the 
Major.^*' Having done his duty as a friend, the Indian, 
not wishing to further betray his kinsmen, said no 
more. The unwary Waldron retired, as was his cus- 

^^Mary H. Wheeler, in Granite Monthly, vol. III. 

^^ Substance of the following account is from A. H. Quint: Historical 
Mem. no. Ill; New Hampshire Provincial Papers, vol. II, 49; Potter: 
History of Manchester, 93-7; Drake: Indians of North America, 298-9; 
Drake: The Border Wars of New England, 14-26; Belknap: History of 
New Hampshire, vol. I, 199-202; see also Charlton: New Hampshire 
as It Is, 40-1, 186-7; Bodge: King Philip's War, 315-317. 

""A. H. Quint: Historical Mem. no. Ill; Drake: Indians of North 
America, 299. 



90 Passaconaway 

torn, without posting a watch. 

As darkness fell and the lights in the different houses 
began to disappear one by one, the camp of the red 
man also quieted down and one might have thought 
it deserted. In fact, the warriors had silently with- 
drawn to the woods. As midnight approached, dusky 
forms crept up to Cocheco's stockade. Suddenly a 
gentle creaking was heard, then heavy timbers seemed 
to jar; farther and still farther down the tiny village 
the same sound was heard. The hour had arrived. 
Crouching Indians sprang up from their hiding-places 
and rushed through the open gates, leaving a guard 
stationed at the entrance, however. 

Richard Waldron's judgment-day had arrived. 
Never again would he defraud Indians or horsewhip 
Quakers. ^'^ Against the Major, that unscrupulous and 
deceitful trader, was the Indian vengeance chiefly 
aimed. Through the ponderous doors of his block- 
house a bloodthirsty band sped. Up the stairs and into 
the trader's sleeping-apartment rushed the Indians. 
Waldron, although over eighty years old, with sword 
in hand, rushed desperately upon the invaders. His 
counter-attack was so fierce that he actually drove 
them through two or three chambers. Then he ran 
back to his chamber for his pistols. But in this re- 
treat he was overtaken and stunned by a blow from the 
flat of a tomahawk. Binding him, Kancamagus' men 
placed him in a large arm-chair upon the dining-table. 
Taunting cries of "Who shall judge Indians now?" ^^ 

■"" See Rufus Jones: Quakers in American Colonies, 105. 
='A. H. Quint, 



How Kancaviagus Crossed out the Account 91 

echoed and re-echoed through the spacious halls. 
Then the exulting Indians sat down and feasted, com- 
pelling the family to serve them a supper. Having 
finished their meal, they arose, and, forming a line, 
marched round and round the table, jeering and hoot- 
ing at their long-hated victim. During this march 
each Indian slashed his knife across the naked breast 
of the gigantic trader, exclaiming, "I cross out my 
account with Major Waldron !" and, "Now, will your 
fist weigh a pound ?"-^'' The sight of flowing blood 
seemed to redouble the ferocity of the captors. They 
sliced off Waldron's ears and nose and brutally forced 
these into his mouth. At length, fainting from loss of 
blood, Waldron began to topple over, whereupon one 
of the Indians held the Major's own sword so that, as 
he fell, it ran him through, thereby putting an end to 
his terrible sufferings. To quote the old poem, "The 
Winter Evening," again : 

"Each one exclaimed, 'I'll cut out fny account/ 
Then spear, or tomahawk, with vengeful rife. 

Gashed in, as if 'twere of a large amount; 
And thus they held the cruel, bloody strife. 
And practiced on the famous Waldron's life. 

One cut him on the breast, one on the head. 

One through the arm run his long, glistening knife. 

And o'er his sable coat, the goar was streaming red. 

"The lightning glances faded from his eye, 
Down from his looks the living spirit fell. 

E'en the dark foemen trembled to see him die, 
While round their feet, as from a gushing well, 
They viewed the torrents from his bosom swell. 

^° Drake: Indians of North America, 299. 



92 Passaconaway 

No sigh, no groan, no tear-drop found its way, 

All calmly from its earthly citadel, 
'Its broken walls and tenements of clay.' 

The spirit took its flight far to the realms of day." *•* 

But this did not end the carnage. Parties of the 
invaders fell upon each of the other houses. The 
garrison of Otis, a partner of Waldron, was taken in 
the same way as was the Major's. After the fray 
Otis was found dead in his chamber; some think that 
he was shot while getting out of bed; others that he 
met his death while peering out of his window. His 
son and a daughter (Hannah), a child of two years 
old, also perished. The latter's brains were dashed 
out against the stairs. Kancamagus captured the wife 
and infant of Otis and the two children of Stephen, 
his son. Three daughters of the elder Otis's family 
were taken, but, at Conway, the party was surprised 
and these captives were set free. 

The case was different at Heard's house. Just as 
the redskins were entering, a youth, William Went- 
worth, being awakened by a dog, rushed upon them 
and, by a Herculean effort, pushed the invaders out and 
slammed the door in their faces. By lying upon his 
back, he was able so to brace himself as to hold the 
door against them, until assistance arrived. The In- 
dians shot through the door twice, but probably they 
fired too high to hit Wentworth, for he still persisted 
unharmed until help came and the door was barred. 

In the capture of the elder CoflUn's house, they en- 

^"The Winter Evening; Farmer and Moore; Historical Collections, 
vol. II, 83-92. 



How Kancamagiis Crossed out the Account 93 

countered little opposition. But, as these "blood- 
thirsty savages" bore no grudge against him, they lim- 
ited their mischief to making him scatter coins by the 
handful from a bag they found there, while, child- 
like, the Indians "scrambled" for them. The night 
before. Coffin, the son, had refused the squaws admit- 
tance, so the red men were barred from his house. 
But the Indians led forth his father and, by threaten- 
ing to murder him in full view of the garrison, finally 
gained admittance. These newly-surrendered captives 
were placed in a small vacant building and were left 
unguarded. In the excitement they all escaped. 

Amidst these bloody scenes a young woman, who 
had once done an Indian a kindness, took her child 
and ran to the woods for cover. A fierce warrior, 
perceiving her, pursued her. Upon discovering, in the 
semi-darkness, who she was, a smile flickered for an 
instant over his countenance and he left her un- 
harmed.^^ 

The details of the other garrisons are not known. 
In this one night there were twenty-three persons slain 
and twenty-five made captives. In all, six houses were 
burned, including that of Waldron, and the mill upon 
the lower fall. It is interesting to note that not one 
of the trader's family except the Major himself was 
harmed. This shows that, though terrible in revenge, 
the savage could discriminate. Even amidst the 
bloodiest scenes he would not harm one who, perhaps 
years before, had done him or a friend a kindness. 

Of course this terrible onslaught, although small 

"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 202. 



94 Passaconaway 

numbers were involved, coming as it did out of an 
almost clear sky, was a heavy blow to the English. The 
fact that the prisoners were on their way to Canada 
seems to indicate that the French knew of the affair 
and that there was trouble ahead. The English could 
find no sufficient explanation or cause for such an on- 
slaught. "It was a most unexpected, unwarranted and 
savage outbreak," said the wise ones. Evidently they 
were unaware that thirteen years ago — a savage re- 
members as far back as that — these very Indians had 
been betrayed and sold into slavery, shot in broad day- 
light by malicious whites, plundered, robbed and un- 
justly imprisoned, yet there was "no sufficient cause"! 

The Indians must be punished. Such bloody deeds, 
when there is no open enmity against the whites as in 
this case, shall be avenged. There shall be no mercy 
shown these terrible heathen. A war of extermination 
shall be waged against this pestiferous vermin. Hence 
Captain Church is speedily despatched to Pennacook. 
He will show these savages the power of British law. 
Upon reaching Pennacook he finds the empty shell of 
the fort and some small patches of corn. These he 
immediately confiscates, but the "great Indian fighter" 
can discover not a single redskin, for some are hidden, 
others scattered up and down the Merrimac, eking out 
a miserable existence, but Kancamagus and the ma- 
jority of his elated warriors are making a speedy march 
to the amicable French. 

The following September Captain Church surprised 
and captured the fort upon the Amariscoggin River. 
In it were found Kancamagus's wife and children, his 



How Kancamagiis Crossed out the Account 95 

brother-in-law and his wife, together with several 
"squaws and papooses." For considerable time this 
fort had been known as Worombo's Fort and had been 
a rendezvous for the fugitives. In the struggle which 
ensued, Kancamagus's sister and daughter were slain 
and the rest made prisoners.*" A short time after, 
the wily brother-in-law escaped. This affair seems to 
have enraged the chief, for at Casco Kancamagus and 
Worombo fell upon the whites with terrible fury, 
although the latter were numerically superior. The 
redskins were at length repulsed, but they had struck 
their blow and seven whites lay lifeless on the ground. 
Twenty-four more were wounded, while evidently the 
Indian losses were slight.*^ 

As a sort of "civilized" revenge for this attack. 
Church's men proposed to butcher their captives. But, 
luckily, two women captives, whom Kancamagus had 
treated kindly and who were living at Worombo's 
Fort at the time of its seizure, interceded, saying that 
Kancamagus had several whites in his power and In 
retaliation would surely slay these. They also pro- 
posed an exchange of prisoners. Therefore, leaving 
tvv^o aged squaws to negotiate with Kancamagus, and 
after destroying a little corn. Church's soldiers re- 
traced their steps. ■^^ We find that it was in this year 
that Hope-Hood, "the tiger," met a fate similar to 
that of "Stonewall" Jackson In later years; that Is, his 
own men, mistaking him for an enemy, fired upon and 

"Drake: Indians of North America, 300. 

^''Compare New Hampshire State Papers, vol. XIX, 319-320. 

"Compare Church: Philip's War, 53. 



g6 Passaconaway 

killed him. This loss seems to have taken the heart 
out of the fiery and vengeful Kancamagus.*^ 

In May, 1691, Kancamagus, Worombo, and eight 
other "Chief Sagamons" entered the Wells Garrison 
under a flag of truce to treat for peace.^'^ Here they 
exchanged their prisoners, of which the Indians had 
at least four score, for those taken by Church's band. 
They made the treaty known as the "Truce of Sackate- 
hock," which lasted just a year. Before delivering up 
the Indian prisoners, Captain Andras made them all 
promise, three times, that they never would fight 
against the English. ^'^ 

The power of the Pennacooks was now shattered, 
the warriors were scattered. The tribe was broken 
up into groups of poverty-stricken wanderers. Most of 
them either went under the name of Merrimacs, or 
took refuge in Canada, at Saint Francis.^^ Perhaps 
it is not to be wondered at that the Saint Francis In- 
dians soon became noted as the bitterest foes of the 
English colonies. And they continued to be so until 
the fall of the French power in America. Their de- 
scendants to this day may be found at Saint Francis.^^ 

There were a few more instances in which we find 
the name of Pennacook and Kancamagus appearing. 
The first of these was the attack on Haverill, a year 

■'^ Drake: Indians of North America, 302. 

^"Potter: History of Manchester, 97. 

*' Church: Philip's War, 64. 

■''New Hampshire State Papers, vol. XIX, 320; vol. XXIV; Town 
Charters, vol. I, 56-7; Potter: History of Manchester, 97. 

■"Flagg: Bureau of Ethnology Bull. 30, part II, 225, Handbook of 
American Indians. 



How Kancamagus Ciossed out the Account 97 

after the "Truce of Sackatehock," which truce had 
expired in 1692. We have very authoritative evi- 
dence that in this foray several of the now "Merri- 
macs," formerly "Pennacooks" of the Kancamagus 
jurisdiction, took part. A captive, Isaac Bradley, tes- 
tified later that many of these raiders belonged to the 
Saco and Pennacook tribes. Possibly the warlike 
Bashaba himself had a hand in the affair.^*^ 

When Dudley visited Casco, in June 20, 1703, he 
held a conference with delegates representing several 
tribes, the Pennacook among others. The red men in- 
formed him that "as high as the sun is above the 
earth, so far distant was their design of making the 
least breach of the peace." ^^ They presented him with 
a belt of wampum, after which both parties went to 
the "Two Brothers" (two large piles of stones), upon 
which they threw more stones, thereby strengthening 
the existing friendship. Yet, six weeks later, they were 
taking part in "Queen Anne's War." ^^ 

From now on, we find the Pennacooks, or the more 
mettlesome of them, making insignificant raids upon 
the English. ^^ Their great confederacy had ceased to 
exist. As we have said, they now made their head- 
quarters at Saint Francis. The French doubtless fitted 
out these expeditions and the bounty they offered the 
redskins was a great temptation. 

'"New Hampshire State Papers, vol. XXIV; Town Charters, I, 
56-7. 
"Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. I, 264. 
^'The same, vol. I, 264. 
^'The same, vol. II, 195. 



98 Passaconaway 

Says Belknap, referring to the Boston Evening Post 
of July 28, 1747: "At Pennacook, a party of the 
enemy discovered" (disclosed) "themselves by firing 
at some cattle. They were pursued by fifty men; and 
retreated with such precipitation as to leave their packs 
and blankets with other things behind." '''* Twelve 
years later, when Major Rogers and his famous 
Rangers attacked and pillaged the village of Saint 
Francis, they found six hundred scalps hanging from 
the different Indian scalp-posts in the town.^^ Doubt- 
less twenty-three of these had come from Cocheco, 
while many others were tokens of the prowess of Kan- 
camagus and his followers. With the destruction of 
Saint Francis, the tribal history of the Pennacooks 
ended. They had turned from the peaceful path 
shown them by Passaconaway, and had staked their 
all on the tomahawk and musket. "They that take 
the sword shall perish with the sword." ^^ It was ever 
thus, as the downfall of mighty military nations at- 
tests. "Thus the aboriginal inhabitants, who held the 
lands of New Hampshire as their own, have been swept 
away. Long and valiantly did they contend for the 
inheritance bequeathed to them by their fathers, but 
fate had decided against them and it was all in vain. 
With bitter feelings of unavailing regret, the Indian 
looked for the last time upon the happy places where 
for ages his ancestors had lived and loved, rejoiced 
and wept, and passed away, to be known no more for- 

" Belknap: History of New Hampshire, vol. II, 195. 
'^^ Potter: History of Manchester, 51. 
'"Matt. 26:53. 



How Kancamagus Crossed out the Account 99 



ever." " 



At the western extremity of the Passaconaway, Al- 
bany, or Swift River, Intervale, between Mt. Tripyra- 
mid and Mt. Huntington, lies a long, low mountain, 
bearing the name of the conquerer of Dover — Kan- 
camagus. Sweetser describes it as "a bold wooded 
ridge which may be ascended by the way of the Flume 
Brook." ^^ The Swift River Trail of the Appalachian 
Mountain Club and the American Institute of Instruc- 
tion Path, sometimes known as the Livermore Path, 
cross the northern shoulder of Kancamagus, as I shall 
state more in detail in a coming chapter. The view 
from the summit of Kancamagus is not worth the 
climb. ^'^ Instead of wasting strength and breath in 
scrambling up the wooded steeps of Mt. Kancamagus, 
I prefer to lie comfortably in my sailor hammock on 
the piazza of our cottage, "Score-o'-Peaks," and study 
the distant undulating sky-line of said mountain, think- 
ing of the dusky warrior whose name it bears. From 
the mountain my mind travels down to Dover, where 
flame and blood and midnight shrieks mingle in a 
scene of confusion and death. Thence, again, mem- 
ory once more takes up its journey, following the foot- 
steps of an exile chief, northward and eastward until 
the trail disappears in oblivion. How and when Kan- 
camagus died we know not. But his life story, at best, 
was a pathetic one. His gory deeds at Cocheco have 

" Coolidge and Mansfield: History and Description of New Eng- 
land, New Hampshire vol., 404. 
"Osgood: White Mountains, i88o edition, 322. 
"'The same. 



lOO Passaconaway 

been softened down by the pencil of time. Even the 
white man now admits that there was great provoca- 
tion. And no one can deny that greed and injustice 
and cruelty and treachery only received their just desert 
when the Indians "crossed out their account with Major 
Waldron." 

In recording the story of the Pennacook chieftains, 
we are dealing not only with historic men, but with 
men of large caliber and ability. One historian says: 
"Passaconaway, Wonalancet, and Kancamagus were 
all of them men of more than ordinary power; equal 
in mental vigor, physical proportions, and moral qual- 
ities to any of their white contemporaries." ^° Of Kan- 
camagus Judge Potter discriminatingly affirms: "Kan- 
camagus was a brave and politic Chief, and in view of 
what he accomplished, at the head of a mere remnant 
of a once powerful tribe, it may be considered a most 
fortunate circumstance for the English colonists that 
he was not at the head of the tribe at an earlier period, 
before it had been shorn of its strength, during the 
old age of Passaconaway and the peaceful and inactive 
reign of Wonalancet. And even had Kancamagus 
succeeded to the Sagamonship ten years earlier than 
he did, so that his acknowledged abilities for coun- 
sel and war could have been united with those of Philip, 
history might have chronicled another story than the 
inglorious death of the Sagamon of Mount Hope, in 
the swamp of Pokanoket; or the success of his re- 
nowned conqueror. Major Church." *^i Such medlta- 

*" Merrill: History of Carroll County, 27. 
" Potter : History of Manchester, 97. 



Hoiv Kancamagus Crossed out the Account lOi 

tions as these run through our mind as the hammock 
swings In the west wind which comes sweeping down 
upon us straight from the blue ridge of Mt. Kan- 
camagus.*^^ 

"^ The altitude of Mt. Kancamagus, according to the U. S. Geol. 
Survey map, is 3,700 feet. The A. M. C. Guide to Paths in the 
White Mountains (page 305) gives it as 3,724 feet. 



CHAPTER V 
passaconaway's pyramid 

MISS LUCY LARCOM bestowed the name of the 
greatest Bashaba upon the loftiest, wildest, yet 
most symmetrical, most awe-inspiring mountain of the 
Sandwich Range. She also gave Indian names to other 
peaks of this southmost range of the Crystal Hills, 
namely, Paugus, Wonalancet, and the Wahwah Hills. 
But head and shoulders above these, old Passacona- 
way lifts its head, monarch of all.^ As in life he loomed 
in pre-eminence high above his tribesmen, so now, 
nearly two and a half centuries after his translation, 
his mountain lifts its head in solemn pride. 

With its smoothly sloping and in places almost per- 
pendicular sides, it tapers up to a lofty, often cloud- 
wreathed, dome,- gracefully holding itself in proud 
aloofness from its inferior comrades. Chocorua is pic- 
turesque — many consider it the most picturesque moun- 
tain in New Hampshire — ^but Passaconaway is grand, 
awe-inspiring, a huge monarch and leader of this south- 
ern herd of blue elephants; the challenging trumpeter 
of the herd.^ 

To this sovereign do the storm demons seem to 

'Osgood: White Mountains, 337. 
* Same. 

^Compare Bolles: At the North of Bearcainp Water, 271. 

102 




a: 



Passaconaway's Pyramid 1 03 

look for orders, and to old Passaconaway's countenance 
do the natives of our valley turn for their weather fore- 
casts. For, not until this huge sentinel, guarding us 
from the southern tempests, has covered his face, will 
he let the storm wreak its fury on our valley. No 
matter how dark and threatening the sky, the southern 
storms do not dare to touch us until Passaconaway 
veils his face in cloud. "Uncle Jim" Shackford, 
for years the proprietor of the Passaconaway House, 
used to say, when his opinion was asked on a threat- 
ening day: "Waal, I gorry, I dunno; it may rain and 
it may not, but when old Passaconaway puts on his 
night-cap it's time to run for shelter." 

This massive peak, with face far up among the 
clouds, is, from the southern side, almost a perfect cone 
with a somewhat blunted and rounded apex. Often 
have I wondered how vegetation and huge trees could 
cling to such precipitous sides. A thick, black, almost 
impenetrable growth of tall spruces and pines com- 
pletely covers this gigantic pile of rock. Because of its 
great height and heavily wooded, well-rounded dome, 
it may easily be distinguished from distant points in all 
directions. The top of Passaconaway is 4,200 feet 
(according to A. M. C. Guide, p. 326, 84 feet less) 
above sea level. From summit to field Passaconaway 
is over three thousand feet in altitude; ^ on its southern 
side it falls almost perpendicularly for seventeen hun- 
dred feet; while on the northwestern slope the steep 
drop is only about seven hundred.^' 

^ See Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 155. 
^ Chas. E. Fay in Appalachia, vol. VI. 



104 Passaconaway 

As already said, the view of the mountain from its 
southern side presents only one rounded peak; while 
three distinct promontories are visible from our north- 
eastern, or Swift River, side. The central of these, 
the true summit, is a lofty, wood-covered knob, only a 
few feet higher than the other two. 

Lying at the eastern base, the groveling Paugus re- 
poses far below, and through the pass between the 
two runs the "Old Mast Road." A very unique spur 
of this monarch of the range is found here. 
From the Mast Road trail which leads from the town 
road in Albany Intervale through the valley to the 
hamlet of Wonalancet, a towering cliff, known as 
Square Ledge, may be seen. Square Ledge is a gigan- 
tic scarred face of perpendicular ledge. There is a 
long, low ridge, artistically dipping and gently rising 
at its eastern end, until, at this spur, it drops perpendic- 
ularly. Square Ledge appears to have been cleft oft, 
sharply and squarely, as if some Indian Deity or some 
giant had sawn vertically downwards until the ridge 
had been sawed off, as if endeavoring to get a cross- 
section of this hill, and, being satisfied, had carried off 
the eastern half. Such a sight well repays one for the 
two-mile walk through the once beautiful woods. 
This great "jump-off" is clearly seen from the town 
road at Mrs. Colbath's, or, better still, from a point a 
few rods west, where the railroad crossed the town 
road. 

Passaconaway appears at its best from our little 
valley at the extreme west end of the "Great Inter- 
vale." The three peaks are set regularly apart, and 



Passaconaway's Pyramid 105 

the middle one rises just enough above the others to 
give the mountain the appearance of a darkly draped 
head and shoulders. Then, too, there is the long 
graceful slide, showing white and shiny from beneath 
the dark coat. This is the laundered shirt-bosom of 
the great Bashaba's dress suit. Especially is this notice- 
able when, on a moonlight evening, one sees the inky 
black form, with overcoat carelessly thrown over the 
shoulders, the clear-cut outlines of the monarch stand- 
ing out against the star-studded sky, and the pale moon 
shining upon the now glistening white granite slide 
as upon a smooth and jeweled shirt-front. This is 
very striking in winter, too, when the slide is coated 
with spotless snow and edged with dark spruces. In 
the case of this mountain, instead of being a horrible, 
ugly scar, the great slide seems to add contrast, beauty 
and fineness of line to what otherwise might be a vast 
unbroken stretch of dark bluish green forest. 

Still gazing upon the mountain from the north, Pas- 
saconaway appears surrounded by a band of loyal re- 
tainers, Potash, Whiteface, and Hedgehog. These 
peaks give it a more haughty and grand appearance 
than perhaps from any other viewpoint. On the north- 
most promontory, and on the path up from our val- 
ley, several precipitous ledges are seen. These afford 
to climbers famous lookouts. 

There are three different ways of climbing Passacon- 
away; from Birch Intervale, or Wonalancet; from 
Whiteface, by the lofty ridge; and from our Passacon- 
away or Swift River Valley, by way of the slide. At 
best they are all "up-hill sidewalks." Hence none but 



io6 Passaconaway 

the strong should attempt the climb.*' Let us ascend 
from Passaconaway. A cool and charming little walk 
of perhaps two miles up the musical Downes Brook 
will take us to the foot of the slide. On our way, about 
half a mile from the town road, is a deserted lumber 
camp. In the winter of 19 14-19 15 this camp was in 
full swing, but now it lies half tumbled down, for the 
lumber-jacks have gone. 

Here, only last summer (1915), while leisurely 
strolling down the lumber road, we made the acquain- 
tance of a big Canadian lynx. First, his bewhiskered 
nose appeared on the left side of the path; next his 
long tasselled ears came into sight; and presently he 
was standing, face on, directly in the road ahead, in 
full view. Not wishing in any way to irritate his 
pussyship, and yet hoping that he would make his de- 
cision promptly — lest we should be forced to assume 
the responsibility of deciding — we slowed down our 
pace almost to a standstill. Much to our relief, after 
sizing us up as too sour, green, bony or tough to 
waste his time on, the great cat crossed the road and 
disappeared behind a log. The old rascal probably 
thought that, with the log between us, he would be 
hidden from our sight; but not so, for we could see 
his tasselled ears, his powerful tawny shoulders, and 
once in a while his back and bob-tail, as he leisurely 
climbed up the little embankment. A moment later 
our new acquaintance had vanished. 

Wc cross on our trail several old, beautiful, little 
corduroy bridges. Over one of these a thickly leaved 

''See Osgood: White Mts., 337. 



Passaconaway's Pyramid 107 

tree hangs, artistically screening the opposite bank from 
our gaze. The winding path reveals innumerable spots 
of beauty to the aesthetic climber. At length some 
broad white ledges, over which a tiny rill plays, are 
seen shining through the leafy partition. Looking up 
the mountainside through the trees, we see, in some 
places, the brook spreading out and, in a broad sheet 
of water, flowing over a ledge; in others, narrowing 
to a mere shining ribbon ; and, at still others, tumbling 
over or eddying round boulders, here lying in a silent 
little pool, there rushing through a rocky channel. 
Pressing through the thin curtain of foliage, we look 
up over the foot of the slide, which came to a stand- 
still in the bed of the Downes, and see a series of rocky 
ledges gradually rising one above another. While 
approaching the foot of the slide, we notice how rocky 
the brook-bed is. In some places large boulders have 
been rolled over and over, until finally brought to 
rest a half mile or more below the junction of the slide 
with the Downes Brook. It is very noticeable for quite 
a distance before the slide is reached. The natives 
say that for a mile the rocks and boulders rolled with 
thunderous booming down the tiny brook-bed on that 
fateful November night in the early 1890's. 

Running parallel with the lower half of the slide, up 
as far as the turn in the slide, is a tote-road, only a 
few rods to the west. Even by this road the climb is 
arduous enough, but nothing as compared with what 
the trip used to be when the trail was the ledgy brook- 
bed. The road rises at an angle of from twenty to 
thirty-five degrees, and is gullied by scores of tiny 



io8 Passaconaway 

brook-beds and washouts, making the walking difficult 
in some places. Still this way of walking half the dis- 
tance from the hotel on a lumber road is far easier 
than the former way of leaping from stone to stone 
up a couple of miles of brook-bed. Well do I recall 
when, a four-year-old boy, I was taken on this trip 
by my parents. A strong, fatherly hand every now 
and then grasped the suspenders of my little overalls 
and I was swung across from rock to rock over rapids 
too wide for me to jump. How tickled I was if only, 
upon landing on a rock, my foot would slip off into 
the cool water! 

After reaching the "turn of the slide," we see the 
slippery ledges of its upper half waiting to be scaled. 
Half an hour later, having reached the inverted V- 
shaped top of the slide, where, on the wind-swept 
shoulder of Passaconaway, the angry tempest in the 
nineties tore up the trees which, crashing down, loos- 
ened dirt and stone until the whole mountain-side 
seemed to be slipping down, we find a narrow little 
path leading to the summit. Above this there is a 
stretch of firs and spruces, through which we journey 
onward and upward. Presently we reach the ledges 
of a northerly lookout. Instead of the huge broad- 
shouldered monarch, the mountain now appears an al- 
most perpendicular, tree-fringed shaft, rapidly tapering 
to this lofty eagle-nest of a cliff. 

The slide is lined with bushes and scrub-trees; in 
spots there are piles and lanes of "slide salad" — finely 
chipped rock, splintered and ground up timber, and 
sand all stirred in together. Gorgeous views may be 



Passaconaway's Pyramid 109 

had in retrospect all the way up the upper half of the 
slide, and, of course, the higher up we go the better 
and broader the view. Nearly all the Sandwich Range 
peaks, the blue northern mountains and our miniature 
valley are spread out before us. 

When the path reaches the crest of the northern 
spur it becomes dark, damp, and mossy. The real 
"Crag Barons," the deer and wild-cat and bear, reign 
supreme here, and here also the sun rarely penetrates 
the thickly branched and needled spruces. Occasionally 
beech trees also are found. So wet is the moss under- 
foot that from a handful considerable water may be 
wrung. As we pass through this damp wood, invol- 
untarily we shiver from the chilliness of the atmos- 
phere and the loneliness of the great mountain wilder- 
ness. 

All at once a welcome rift appears just ahead. We 
hurry on and are shortly rewarded by coming out upon 
a deliciously warm, sun-kissed ledge. This is the 
northwestern outlook. We rest here long enough to 
drink in the view of the Franconia system and the moun- 
tains lying between us and that region, for from the 
main outlook we shall not have a view of this section. 
Tripyramid bulks large from here. And just across a 
gently dipping valley to the west and southwest, seem- 
ingly only at arm's length, lies Mount Whiteface, to 
which a good trail leads from our very feet. We shall 
not need to look at the northern sky-line from here, 
for we shall have even a better view from the top. 

Hastily we cover the easy quarter mile of compara- 
tively level trail leading to the final goal. And now 



no Passaconaway 

our feet rest on the ledge which constitutes the actual 
summit of Passaconaway. What a view is ours! To 
the northward the mountains of the Presidential Range 
lift their blue peaks into the clear sky. Eastward 
the sharp teeth of Moat and Chocorua chew jagged 
holes in the azure of the heavens. Far over into Maine 
can we see. Southeasterly lie Portland and the At- 
lantic Ocean. Over between Madison and Eaton a 
tiny thread of smoky steam catches our eye, and 
through our glasses we see a microscopic worm slowly 
crawling northward. This is the train from Boston, 
laden with its hundreds of passengers on their way to 
seek rest and health in the ozone of God's Mountain 
Country. To me the best of the view is the herd 
of blue elephants, humping and rolling to the north- 
ward — the Presidential Range, the handiwork of a 
Maker more powerful than the architects of locomotive- 
works or the tiny builders of human ant-hills — our mod- 
ern cities. Your trains, your hotels, your automobiles 
no doubt "may be all right for some," as the old guide, 
"Jack" Allen, used to say, but give me a wild, craggy 
mountain, far away from the noise and dirt and con- 
fusion of towns. Here, for a time, at least, let me 
be a "refugee from civilization." '^ 

Here, on the very ridgepole of the Sandwich and 
Albany country, let us eat our luncheon, meanwhile 
drinking in the sky-line. And now, having satisfied the 
ravenous hunger of a mountaineer, we unscrew the 
cover of that metallic cylinder which the Appalachians 
have placed in a little cairn here on the summit. In 

^Paul Elmer More: Shelburne Essays, First Series, 24. 



Passaconaway's Pyramid 1 1 1 

it we find a long list of names of persons who have 
climbed the mountain before us. We add our names 
to the list. 

Although Passaconaway is nearly seven hundred feet 
higher than Chocorua, because of its rounded and 
wooded top, it does not afford a panoramic view of 
the entire sky-line. Now that we are rested, let us 
make our way a few rods to the southwest, through 
the woods, for we must not go down until we have 
had a glimpse of Winnepesaukee and the Lake Coun- 
try. 'Twill cost but a few additional steps, for which 
we shall be repaid a thousandfold. No wonder the 
Indians loved the "Smiling Waters" (Winnepesaukee) 
and Squam Lake ! Far off in the dim blue we can make 
out the Uncanoonucs, Monadnock and Wachusett. 

Would that we might "build tabernacles" here in 
which to stay forever ! But the noon-day sun is now 
making its way westward and we must think of de- 
scending to that little white speck in the Albany Inter- 
vale which we call "Score-o'-Peaks" and "home." 

Passaconaway is an ideal haunt for bears. In the 
cylinder in which we registered are brief records of 
trampers seeing Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. What 
could be more fitting than that the little "Teddy Bears" 
of to-day, when chased by savage hunters, should flee 
for refuge to the holes and caves on the shoulders 
of old Passaconaway, for was not Passaconaway, the 
chieftain, the "Son of the Bear"? Truly, one would 
naturally expect that Passaconaway's name-bearing 
mountain would offer shelter to the bear papooses 
in their fear and danger. 



112 Passaconaway 

Many summers ago, while we were peacefully sleep- 
ing early one night, a blood-curdling scream aroused 
us. Again and again it was repeated. It came from 
a bear in the Downes Brook valley, at the foot of 
Passaconaway, probably calling to his mate. 

One morning, about nine o'clock, a young lumber- 
man came speeding down the road. When opposite 
our cottage he was asked by some one why he was 
hurrying so; whereupon, with pallid features, he re- 
plied that just inside the edge of the woods, on the 
Passaconaway road, a shaggy old bear had introduced 
himself, with evident intentions of becoming better 
acquainted. The Frenchman at once remembered an 
urgent engagement requiring his presence at the lum- 
ber-store. Therefore, the haste ! 

A couple, planning to climb Passaconaway from the 
Wonalancet side, had notified the Shackfords of their 
intention of coming over the mountain, and had re- 
served a room for the night. Evening approached, and 
at length the stars appeared. Just as the proprietors 
were beginning to worry about the belated pedestrians, 
a message arrived from the other side of the range say- 
ing that, after almost gaining the summit, the people 
had decided to retrace their steps. Later, the reason 
for this change of plan was explained in detail. When 
they approached the summit, a huge bear stuck his 
muzzle out from behind a ledge at the side of the path 
and sniffed at the bold trespassers. After a short 
pause, in which the said trespassers perceived no sign 
of retreat on the part of Mr. Bear, and not wishing 
to disturb the transquillity of the ursine mind, they — 



Passaconaway's Pyramid 113 

unarmed — quietly and (need I add?) speedily retraced 
their steps. 

Returning from the ascent of Passaconaway one day, 
two of our intimate friends, just at dark, met a huge 
bear in the path. 

Years ago, in a pouring rain, a pair of wet, tired, 
and bedraggled trampers descended from the mountain. 
The man was leading his wife, who was blind. Eight 
years later my parents met the same couple in Switzer- 
land. The gentleman was reading passages from guide- 
books and telling his wife about the scenery. They 
had traveled for years in this way, having ridden up 
Pike's Peak, among other mountains. Amid the 
wonders and grandeur of the Alps these New Eng- 
landers chatted together once more, agreeing that the 
beauties of the Rhone Valley were strikingly similar 
to the glories of the Albany Intervale in the White 
Mountains. 

Concerning Passaconaway's great slide of "late No- 
vember" — often have the old settlers described it to 
us — let me quote a stanza from BoUes's "Chocorua's 
Tenants" : 



"Night was resting on the heavens, 
Not a star gleamed in the ether, 
Only in the far-off Northland 
Dimly glowed a lurid beacon, 
Burning in the awful passes 
Close by Carrigain the mighty. 
Still the air, and soundless, heavy. 
Phantom vapors mustered quickly, 
Then a distant sound came booming 
From the valley of the Saco, 



114 Passaconaway 

Through the vale of singing waters, 
Like a lake, ice-riven, moaning. 
Like the sea in deep rock caverns, 
Like an avalanche in winter. 
Like the winds when ripe for rapine. 
Louder, deeper, came the uproar. 
Surging, leaping, came the cloud hosts; 
Tremble now, presumptuous forests. 
Winds and clouds combine against you, 
Pitying stars have hid their faces, 
Night with sinister intention 
Ne'er was darker, never denser. 
Woe, oh woe to you, proud forests. 
Day shall dawn upon your ruin. 
Ah, what sound is that of rending. 
Crushing, crashing, splintering timber? 
Hear the groans of breaking spruce trunks, 
Hear the moans of straining fibres. 
Hear the roar of falling boulders 
Bounding down the endless ledges. 
All of Passaconaway's bulwarks 
Seem to break before the storming." ^ 

"Bolles: Chocoiua's Tenants, 42-3, published by Houghton, Mifflin 
& Co. 



CHAPTER VI 

PAUGUS, MOUNTAIN AND CHIEFTAIN 

THE southeastern rampart of our valley consists 
of three picturesque mountains: Chocorua, with 
its rocky, jagged peak; Bald, with its rounded and 
polished triple dome; and Paugus, a long, humpy ridge, 
miles in extent. 

The present chapter is to be devoted to the last, the 
wildest and the ugliest of the three. Frank BoUes has 
a chapter on this mountain in his "At the North of 
Bearcamp Water," in which he affectionately terms it 
"Old Shag." Many of our New Hampshire hills are 
known by several different names, but this one in par- 
ticular seems to have a great variety. Because of its 
many "fire and wind swept domes," ^ from different 
viewpoints it presents entirely different shapes. Hence 
Paugus has as many names as it has humps. The most 
common ones are : Bald, Moose, Ragged, Deer, Hunch- 
back, Middle, Frog, Toadback, and Old Shag.- But 
the most romantic and commonest name to-day is the 
one with which Miss Lucy Larcom christened it — 
"Mount Paugus." ^ 

^Bolles: Land of the Lingering Snow, 155. 

^Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 146; Appalachia, I, 7; 
Osgood's White Mountains, 343. 

* Granite State Magazine, vol. Ill, 189; Osgood's White Mountains, 
343- 

"5 



ii6 Passaconaway 

Time and again this venerable pile, 3,248 feet in 
height, has been the victim of fire, hurricane, and 
ax.'* From our valley we see on its most north- 
western ridge a large area covered with a beautiful 
light green young growth. Three years ago this was 
bare — a huge scar — ^the merciless ax of the lumber- 
man having stripped it clean, so that not even a bush 
could be seen upon it. The United States Government 
now owns this "old ridge," so that in time the mighty 
Paugus once more probably will robe itself in a mantle 
of pines and spruces. 

Before the Revolution, from these very slopes, masts 
were cut for the Royal Navy.^ The old settlers tell 
of finding immense pines marked with the King's 
"Broad Arrow," and, had not the famous mast trade 
ceased with the opening of our Revolution, these forest 
monarchs would have helped to whiten every sea.*' 

On its south side, Paugus is a jumble of ledges, cliffs 
and trees. From Chocorua one sees it as a series of 
rocky terraces, while from our side (the north) only 
one or two cliffs jut out through the dark veil of spruce. 
There is one especially beautiful ledge in about the 
center of the mountain. It is shaped like a kite, start- 
ing in a point at the top, widening at an obtuse angle, 
then, for the remaining three quarters of its height, it 
tapers smoothly down to a sharp point. The face of 
this ledge is almost perpendicular and apparently of 

^Compare Bolles: Land of the Lingering Snow, 155. 
"Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 43-44. 
"Compare Weeden: Economic and Social History of New England, 
I, 243. 



Paugiis, Mountain and Chieftain 117 

white granite. It is almost as white as chalk and not 
a speck or spot seems to blur its brilliancy. I think 
that this is the whitest ledge in the entire Sandwich 
Range. When the moon plays upon it it appears to 
sparkle and even tremble as a waterfall. It is said 
that the Indians, and some of the whites, held this spot 
in awe; they knew not whether it was rock or water. 
The only approach to it, from our side, at least, is 
through miles of the worst of tangles. 

A writer speaks of a certain ledge on the northwest- 
erly side of Paugus, the upper part of which displays 
the perfect image of a lamb's head. "Eye, mouth, nose, 
ear and forehead are exact; even the chest and back 
are clearly delineated. Here it has stood for ages, 
an object of veneration to the aborigines, a natural 
symbol of the Christian's Prince of Peace." "^ 

The three foes — fire, wind, and man — have done 
their work only too well — they have made Paugus one 
of the most inaccessible of all the hills. The one path 
to the top, from our side, is "swamped out" with a ter- 
rible yet very dull blade, namely, the hurricane, which 
has torn and slashed, leaving a great abattis, an almost 
impenetrable tangle. From the south, there are many 
attractive paths leading to the summit.^ 

The view both north and south is practically the 
same as from some of the more accessible lookouts. 
There are only two distinctive views from Paugus, 
views which no other mountain can boast. From its 

'Merrill: History of Carroll County, 124. 

*A. M. C. Guide to Paths in the White Mountains, 1916, 319 ff. 



Ii8 Passaconaway 

eastern hump, a remarkable view may be had of Cho- 
corua, towering and frowning high above. The huge 
slide on Chocorua — nearly the whole length of the 
western slope, which is invisible from all other points, 
is here seen in such awful grandeur as to cause the be- 
holder to shudder.*^ The second impressive view is 
from the extreme southwestern knoll. From here one's 
attention is monopolized by lofty Passaconaway. Poor 
Paugus appears to be on its knees at the feet of this 
mighty Bashaba. From here, as from nowhere else, 
the massive bulk of Passaconaway strikes horror into 
the spectator. This gigantic pile so overtops Paugus 
that it appears as if a hurricane might topple it over 
and completely bury its humble neighbor. 

The most picturesque physical feature of Paugus is 
found among the crags and boulders on the southern 
slope. Over, between and around some of these ledges 
a little brook trickles, falls and splashes. About a 
thousand feet above the level country around, high 
up among the cliffs, there is a beautiful pool of water 
which is at the foot of a wonderful series of falls. 
Looking up from here we see where, in places, the 
brook is but a silver thread, while in others it appears 
as a very respectable fall. This fall consists of a suc- 
cession of storied ledges and cliffs, at least two hun- 
dred and fifty feet long, from the mossy brook-bed to 
the glassy pool below. Each of these crags is from 
fifty to sixty feet long, and about twenty-five feet in 
perpendicular height.^*^ Over these the water shoots, 

"Compare Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 154. 
^"Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 150-1. 



Paugiis, Mounlain and Chieftain 119 

spreads and dances. Bolles, who was a great admirer 
of Mount Paugus, says that if the volume of Paugus 
Brook were thrice its present size, these falls would 
be among the most beautiful in New England. ^^ 

An "old timer" says that when the Lord had nearly 
finished creating the world, He had a quantity of 
boulders, trees and dirt left over. Having not yet com- 
pleted New Hampshire, it is said that He dumped this 
surplus material there. Therefore the mountains. ^^ I 
think that If all of our beautiful White Mountains were 
on the Paugus plan, the "highlander" would not be 
alone in his belief. For, of the score or more moun- 
tains seen from our valley, this alone has no definite 
shape, size, or dimensions; but just stretches from 
Chocorua to Passaconaway and Wonalancet, and thus 
fills up a gap. 

However, the lover of history, especially Indian 
history, cannot look upon this ridge without emotion, 
for it bears the name of a once prominent figure in 
New England history; and at the mention of "Paugus" 
a bloody battle is recalled. Hence the chief redeeming 
feature of this lowly mountain is its name. The one 
to whom nearly all these peaks owe their romantic 
Indian nomenclature — Lucy Larcom — happily named 
this after a red man who probably often ranged its 
humps and penetrated its chasms; and also she named 
the ragged ridges, near and below Paugus, the Wahwah 
Hills, after a fellow chief of Paugus. ^^ 

"Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 151. 
'^Granite Monthly, vol. XLII, p. 271. 
^° Osgood's White Mountains, 343. 



I20 Passaconaway 

Paugus, meaning "the oak,"^'* was a sachem of the 
Pequawkets about 1725.^^ At this period the authori- 
ties of the Provincial Gov^ernment offered one hundred 
pounds bounty for every enemy Indian scalp. ^*' The 
English were not alone in this barbarity, for their 
rivals — the French — had been outfitting parties and 
offering their Indian allies premiums for enemy scalps 
or prisoners.^' 

Among those tempted by the scalp bounty was Cap- 
tain John Lovewell, of Dunstable, a famous Indian 
fighter. On February 20, 1725, Lovewell's party, dis- 
covering the tracks of Indians, followed them. By 
the smoke of the Indians' evening fire, the English lo- 
cated the redskins' camping spot. The canny Love- 
well, by counting their tracks in the snow, knew them 
to be only ten in number, and determined upon a plan 
whereby they should all be shot without danger to 
his own men. The captain divided his company into 
squads of five, each to fire in order as rapidly after 
one another as possible. Slowly they crept upon the 
sleeping party. The Indians, tired from the long day's 
journey, had not posted any sentinels. Captain Love- 
well began the slaughter by killing two of the Indians 
with his own shot; five more were killed on the spot 

"Merrill: History of Carroll County, 36. 

^^ Drake: Indians of North America, 312. 

"Potter: History of Manchester, 149. Also compare fac-simile of a 
proclamation issued by Lieutenant Governor William Stoughton, Prov- 
ince of Massachusetts Bay, May 27, 1696, offering soldiers' wages and 
bounty for Indian scalps. See Bulletin of Boston Public Library, 
October, 1893. 

"Compare Potter: Manchester, 146. 



Paugus, Mountain and Chieftain ill 

instantly. The remaining three, half awake, jumped 
from their blankets; two reeled and fell; the other, 
wounded, ran upon the ice but was overtaken and 
held by a dog until he could be killed and scalped. By 
these tactics not a white man was hurt and a raid prob- 
ably was averted. For the French doubtless had fitted 
out the raiders with extra provisions, snow-shoes and 
blankets, evidently for their expected prisoners.^* In 
memory of this affair, the pond, near Wakefield, has 
ever since been known as "Lovewell's Pond." The 
victorious troops marched to Boston in a blaze of 
glory. They were given their thousand pounds — an 
enormous sum in the eyes of these farmers — which 
they divided. ^'"^ 

After such a glorious success and so rich a reward, 
it Is not surprising to find the victors seriously con- 
sidering making redskin-killing a profession. On April 
15, 1725, therefore. Captain Lovewell set out with a 
party of about fifty men to "hunt savages," and if nec- 
essary to penetrate to the very heart of the red man's 
country for the purpose of slaying Paugus and his 
band — known to have made several raids — and return 
home with scores of scalps.-*^ 

This time Fortune seems to have deserted them as 
completely as it had favored them before.-^ A vet- 

^* Potter: Manchester, 150-1; Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 52. 

"Potter: Manchester, 151. 

^"Compare Potter: History of Manchester, 152. 

"This account of Lovewell's Fight is based chiefly upon N. H. 
Historical Collections; Chase: Gathered Sketches, N. H. and Vt., 32 
fit.; Parkman: Half Century of Conflict, vol. I, chap. XI; Potter: His- 
tory of Manchester, 145-162; Merrill: History of Carroll County, 28- 



122 Passaconaway 

eran Indian-fighter, William Cummings, became unable 
to travel farther because of the effects of a wound re- 
ceived long before, and a relative was detailed to escort 
him home as soon as he was able to travel. Soon after 
a Nutfield man, Benjamin Kidder, was disabled by 
a serious illness, and, being too humane to abandon 
him, the party stopped on the west side of Ossipee 
Lake, where they erected a palisaded blockhouse. The 
surgeon. Sergeant Woods and a guard of seven men 
were left here. This blockhouse was to be a refuge 
in case of retreat. 

The remaining thirty-four continued on their ad- 
vance northeast to the land of the Pequawkets. At 
length we find them picking their Avay through the 
unbroken fastnesses under the still snow-covered brows 
of Chocorua, Bald, Moat and Kearsarge. On the 
seventh of May, while camping near the present site 
of Fryeburg, Maine, having crossed the Saco, the senti- 
nels were put upon their guard by sounds, repeated 
again and again, in the underbrush, which sounds, they 
thought, might be made by prowling beast or lurking 
savage. 

Next morning, while reverently listening with bared 
heads to the prayer of their young chaplain, Frye, a 
shot was heard not a great distance off. Upon ap- 
proaching the spot from whence it came they discovered 
a fairly large pond, and upon its nearer bank stood 

33, quoting Hon. John H. Goodale in his History of Nashua (written 
for J. W. Lewis & Co.: History of Hillsborough County) ; Charlton: 
New Hampshire as Tt Is, 52-54.; Willey: Incidents in White Moun- 
tain Hiscory, 205-232. 



Paugus, Mountain and Chieftain 123 

a red man, apparently fowling. Here was scalp num- 
ber one ! For their labors they should receive some 
recompense! But might not this hunter be a decoy? 
A council of war was held and the scalp proved too 
tempting. Being in open v/oods of tall growth, where 
they could see quite a distance, they left' their packs 
and started to creep up and shoot this Indian. But the 
native's eyes were as sharp as theirs. Although not 
a decoy, as it later appeared, he perceived the ambush 
and decided to sell his life as dearly as possible. With 
his charge of beaver-shot he mortally wounded Captain 
Lovewell and Private Whiting. Almost instantly a 
bullet from Ensign Wyman's rifle brought down the 
Indian. Chaplain Frye and another man ran forward 
and scalped him. 

In view of their leader's plight it was thought best 
by the English to retire to their packs. Where could 
they have left them? No packs were to be seen, but 
at length the spot where they had deposited them was 
found. The packs had been stolen ! Suddenly a blood- 
curdling yell rang out. From all sides the Pequawkets, 
led by Paugus, rushed upon the whites, firing as they 
came, and holding up ropes, suggestive of an immediate 
surrender. By counting the packs, the Indians had 
ascertained the number of whites. 

The frontiersmen withered and fell under the hail 
of this first volley. Lovewell, not yet dead, received 
another wound, but lay firing as he died. Ten others 
fell dead, two of whom were the heutenants. Yet the 
English stood their ground and, with an equally gall- 
ing fire, answered the onrushing braves, killing some 



124 Passaconaway 

and driving the rest to cover. Unless the Pequawkets 
intended to strike terror into the English, and thereby 
avoid a fight, their motive for rushing forth from their 
ambush, from which they might have killed many more 
of Lovewell's men, will always remain a mystery. 

One only of the English showed a "yellow streak"; 
he, Benjamin Hassell of Dunstable, turned and fled 
from the field. In his panic he did not stop until he 
had reached the Ossipee Fort. Here he so luridly 
pictured the bloody scene (he had remained only for 
the first volley) that fear seized the reserves and they 
retreated to the settlements. With the surviving em- 
battled men it was a case of life or death; far from any 
aid, they must not only decisively whip their foes, but 
also must regain the settlements before starvation 
should strike them down. 

Under the cool and experienced guidance of their 
only unharmed officer. Ensign Wyman, they gradually 
fell back the few rods to the shore. Here, with the 
pond behind them, they settled down for a long battle. 
Each man sought out cover — stump, log, tree, boulder, 
or bush — and, as best he could, concealed himself from 
the vigilant eyes of his enemies. Whenever a tiny part 
of a foe was seen, the soldiers fired. The red men, 
trained in this type of bush-fighting, possessed the 
greater resourcefulness in concealment; while the 
woodsmen, long skilled in the use of fire-arms, excelled 
in deadliness of aim. Also the white men were more 
dogged, obstinate and persevering than their more 
agile foes. Hence, because the weakness of the one 
side was the strong point of the other, they were not 



Paugus, Mountain and Chieftain 125 

unevenly matched and many men on both sides fell. 

Many of the Pequawkets and English were person- 
ally known to each other and frequent taunts were 
hurled across the field. --^ A continual hooting, cat- 
calling and wolf-howling was kept up by the savages, 
to which the English replied with cheers and shouts. 

After several hours of this kind of fighting the In- 
dian howls died away. With the slightest rustling in 
the leaves, as of a retreating snake, they gradually 
wriggled off. Presently, at a distance, a terrible 
noise showed that they were holding a powwow for vic- 
tory. Suddenly, like an ill omen, their chief conjurer 
fell dead, shot by Ensign Wyman, who had secretly 
crept up. This broke up the meeting abruptly and 
they immediately returned to the conflict. 

Later, Chaplain Frye, who lay wounded, praying 
from time to time in a scarcely audible voice, passed 
away. This youth's death greatly depressed the Eng- 
lish and their fire became noticeably lessened; where- 
upon the Pequawkets again sprang up with ropes, of- 
fering them quarter, but Ensign Wyman replied that 
"they would have no quarter but what they won at 
the point of their muskets." -^ 

Once more the battle was renewed. Just before 
dusk some savages managed to reach a peninsula or 
beach. Paugus was one of these. He took cover 
behind a pine tree within a very short distance of one 
of Lovewell's best shots, John Chamberlain. For a 
short time each endeavored to discover an unpro- 

"McCHntock: History of New Hampshire, i6i. 
^^ Potter: Manchester, 157. 



126 Passaconaway 

tected part of the other's person and at length both 
aimed their muskets and pulled the trigger. There 
was a flash in each priming-pan, but the guns failed to 
go off. Both weapons had become foul from inces- 
sant firing all day long, and were now practically use- 
less. So these fearless men, being acquainted with 
each other, agreed to go down to the water and wash 
out their guns. The contestants on both sides, perceiv- 
ing the situation, did not interfere. Both cleansed 
their pieces with equal rapidity, but Paugus gained the 
advantage in loading his gun, because, instead of hav- 
ing to ram his ball home, as did the white, his bullet 
was small enough to roll down the barrel. Perceiving 
his advantage, he, priming his piece, cried, "Me kill 
you!""^ To which the dauntless Scot replied in kind. 
Throwing down his ram-rod, Chamberlain struck the 
stock of his gun upon the hard sand, brought the musket 
to his shoulder and fired. Paugus fell, pierced through 
the heart. But the well-aimed ball of the sachem tore 
through Chamberlain's cap and hair, leaving him un- 
wounded, however.^'' So close together were the shots 
that the reports seemed as one. The reason Chamber- 
lain had gained the advantage was because his musket 
had become so worn with use that, by striking it upon 
the ground, some powder from the charged barrel 
filtered through into the priming-pan, thereby priming 
the gun; while Paugus had to shake from his powder- 
horn the necessary powder into the priming-pan. The 

"Potter: Manchester, 157. 

^ Coolidge and Mansfield: New England, Maine vol., 135, note. 



Paitgus, Mountain and Chieftain 127 

knowledge of this is all that saved the settler's life.-" 

Shortly after dark the discomfited Indians retreated, 
even leaving their fallen foes unscalped. In considera- 
tion of the value of these scalps, this precipitous with- 
drawal shows that there was some pressing reason. It 
is highly probable that the death of their chieftain was 
the cause. But whatever the reason, they suddenly 
disappeared and left the field to the whites. 

Of Lovewell's men only nine were not severely 
hurt, eleven were badly wounded and the rest were 
hors de combat. It was estimated that only about 
twenty Pequawkets escaped unhurt. However, this 
was only a conjecture, for the Indians so concealed 
their losses that later only three corpses were found. 

For some time the English lay still, dreading lest 
the Indians should fall upon them again, as they had 
done twice already. About midnight, as soon as pru- 
dence permitted, the eleven men who were able to 
travel set out for the Ossipee Fort. It was found 
abandoned, but a piece of birch bark was discovered 
telling that all had been lost. Some rations of pork 
and bread had been left. While refreshing themselves 
with these, their number was swelled to a dozen by 
the addition of Solomon Keyes. He, thrice wounded, 
and giving himself up for lost, had crawled to the 
shore of the pond where he chanced upon a deserted 
canoe. In preference to being found by the savages, 
he pushed off in it, and, lying in the bottom, drifted 
quite a distance. The wind drove him ashore, where, 

"Fassett: Colonial Life in New Hampshire, 19; also Potter: Man- 
chester, 157. 



128 Passaconaway 

feeling greatly strengthened, he made his way to the 
fort. 

On the thirteenth of May the first party of half- 
starved fugitives arrived in Dunstable. Thinking that 
by division their retreat might be concealed, they had 
formed three groups. The last group, after indescrib- 
able hardship and suffering, arrived two days later. 
These followers of Lovewell had had no food except 
that left in the fort and had been forced to subsist 
on the products of the wood and swamp. Their wounds 
were in a most pitiable condition and were almost un- 
bearably painful. But they had made history and the 
pond near Fryeburg has been called "Lovewell's Pond" 
ever since the sanguinary struggle there. 

Two or three days after the arrival of the survivors, 
a party was sent up to view the fateful field and to 
bury the slain. Three Indian graves were discovered. 
From these, out of curiosity, the frontiersmen exhumed 
the bodies. One of these was found to be that of 
Paugus. The mighty "Oak" at last had been laid 
low. 

Lovewell's Fight forever broke the power of the 
Indians in New Hampshire. The shattered remnants 
of the once terrible Pequawkets withdrew to the squalid 
Indian village of Saint Francis in Canada, where their 
descendants survive to this day. 

But a more congenial neighbor than the old-time 
war-whooping, musket-firing Paugus, and certainly a 
more poetic bearer of his proud name than an un- 
romantlc Indian of to-day could be. Is Mount Paugus, 
linking Past with Present, just as "Old Shag" links 



Paugiis, Moitniain and Chieftain 129 

jagged Chocorua with gentle Wonalancet and tower- 
ing Passaconaway ; and, until the "everlasting hills" 
shall disintegrate and disappear, Mount Paugus prob- 
ably will remain as an enduring and fitting monument 
to a once living and fearless inhabitant of Passacon- 
av/ay-land; reminding succeeding generations that 

" 'Twas Paugus led the Pequot tribe: 
As runs the fox, would Paugus run ; 
As howls the wolf, would Paugus howl; 
A huge bear-skin had Paugus on," ^^ 
^Willey: Incidents in White Mountain History, 218 ff.; quo. from 
Farmer and Moore: Collections, Historical and Miscellaneous, and 
Monthly Literary Journal. 



CHAPTER VII 

chocorua's horn and legend 

OVER the eastern shoulder of Paugus rises a sharp 
peak resembling a breaking wave.^ This, Cho- 
corua's summit, is likened to various things. The most 
striking resemblances from our valley are first the horn 
effect, and secondly that of a sleeping Indian, with per- 
fect features, feathers and shoulders. 

Drake says, "Mount Chocorua is probably the most 
striking and individual mountain of New England."^ 
It stands as the helmeted leader of the mighty troop 
behind it, — 

"The pioneer of a great company 

That wait behind him, gazing towards the east, — 

Mighty ones all, down to the nameless least, — 
Though after him none dares to press, where he 
With bent head listens to the minstrelsy 

Of far waves chanting to the moon, their priest. 

What phantom rises up from winds deceased? 
What whiteness of the unapproachable sea? 

Hoary Chocorua guards his mystery well: 
He pushes back his fellows, lest they hear 

The haunting secret he apart must tell 
To his lone self, in the sky-silence clear. 

A shadowy, cloud-cloaked wraith, with shoulders bowed 

He steals, conspicuous, from the mountain-crowd." ' 

^Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 154. 
'Drake: New England Legends and Folk-Lore, 469. 
'Lucy Larcom: Chocorua; see Longfellow: Poems of New England, 
II, 272. 

130 



Chocoriia s Horn and Legend 131 

From different standpoints Chocorua presents en- 
tirely different shapes, causing Mr. Sweetser to re- 
mark: "The various aspects to the aesthetic observer 
may be seen from the following adjectives which Starr 
King applied, in different places, to this peak: defiant, 
jagged, gaunt and grisly, tired, haggard, rocky, deso- 
late, craggy-peaked, ghost-like, crouching, proud, gal- 
lant, steel-hooded, rugged, torn, lonely, proud-peaked, 
solemn, haughty." ^ 

This peak, with the exception of Mounts Adams and 
Washington, the sharpest of the entire system, is seen 
from afar — from the lake country and even from the 
border towns of Maine and New Hampshire.^ Choc- 
orua is the first real mountain identified from the train 
by the traveler coming from Boston or the south, and 
being the most picturesque, is usually the last to be 
erased from the memory.*' 

The reason this "old horn" stands out so much 
more imposingly than its neighbors is not only because 
of its steepness and unique shape, but also because, 
far down on its granite sides it has been denuded of its 
forests. One dark night many years ago Choco- 
rua lifted up a pyramid of flame. Concerning this pic- 
ture Drake writes: "A brilliant circle of light, twenty 
miles in extent, surrounded the flaming peak like a 
halo; while underneath an immense tongue of forked 
flame licked the sides of the summit with devouring 
haste. ... In the morning a few charred trunks, 

* Osgood: White Mountains, 337. 

'The same. 

^Compare Drake: New England Legends and Folk-Lore, 469, 



132 Passaconaway 

standing erect, were all that remained of the original 
forest. The rocks themselves bear witness to the in- 
tense heat which has either cracked them wide open, 
crumbled them in pieces, or divested them, like oysters, 
of their outer shell, all along the path of the conflagra- 
tion." '^ To this day the charred remains may still be 
seen, and now, because of this fire, scores of natives 
each summer make pilgrimages to this peak and re- 
turn with their huge milk-pails filled with blueberries.^ 

To me the best way to enjoy a mountain, besides 
admiring it from a distance, is to climb it. Dr. Jack- 
son is recorded as saying, "Those who wish for a la- 
borious mountain excursion can ascend Chocorua 
Mountain from Albany." " He might have added that, 
as it is the most laborious, it is also the most varied 
and interesting way of ascent. Several accounts have 
been written about the climbs up Chocorua and scores 
of other articles on the mountain itself have appeared. 
If one plans to scale "Chocorua's horn," ^^ a day 
should be selected just after a storm, with not a cloud 
in the sky, and when every tree on the distant peaks 
may be clearly and distinctly seen. Such days usually 
are found in late August or in the autumn. 

The "Chocorua Trail" may be found just the other 
side of the Champney Brook, which gurgles musically 
east of the Frenchmen's houses at the lower end of 
the "Great Intervale," where said brook crosses the 

'Drake: Heart of the White Mountains, 27. 
"Compare Osgood: White Mountains, 337. 
"The same, 338. 
"Whittier: Among the Hills. 



Chocoruas Horn and Legend 133 

road, nearly four miles from "Shackford's." This 
part of the journey, therefore, may be made in an 
automobile. Upon reaching the Champney Brook we 
shoulder our baggage, and enter the woods on a well- 
worn logging-road, running alongside the brook, which 
it crosses and re-crosses. The tall grass and bushes 
lining this road are still very wet from the dew, and 
sparkle beautifully when an occasional flash of sunlight 
falls upon them. 

Just ahead there is a turn in the path. While round- 
ing this bend a few summers ago, on returning from 
the climb, we saw a magnificent red fox glide swiftly 
across the road and head straight for the Frenchmen's 
chicken-houses. Later a confused squawking of hens 
announced the success of the raider. Upon entering 
the woods that day we had noticed a litter of pigs and 
several chickens in the clearing. Reynard, after gaz- 
ing covetously upon them, evidently had been unable 
to resist the temptation. 

Presently the ground becomes more irregular, and 
in places spring freshets have so gullied the road that 
a very "contrary sidewalk" (as tipsy Pat said) lies 
before us. Now and then a warm ray of sunlight 
pierces the cool, damp woods, and, falling upon us, 
cheers us into buoyant gladness. Now a little grass- 
covered clearing opens before us. Look at that grass ! 
The one thing that can be raised to perfection in these 
cold regions is hay. The grass in this abandoned clear- 
ing is at least four feet high. A ruined lumber-camp 
lies in the clearing. Only a few years ago a French 
boss was housing his lumberjacks in this very camp, 



134 Passaconaway 

yet, during this short period, these temporary build- 
ings have crumbled and soon will have entirely disap- 
peared. Here a roof has caved in, there a whole 
building is prostrate ; again the front, back, or side 
has fallen away, leaving the once inhabited structure 
now a tragic ruin of neglect and lonesomeness. 

About two years ago we discovered the cutest and 
most active little house-cats playing among these ruins. 
Evidently when the men left, these pets had either 
remained behind or returned. And now they were as 
wild as their much feared undomesticated relatives, the 
Canadian lynxes, although of diminutive and harmless 
size as compared with the pussies of the tasselled ears. 

Farther on our path plunges into a tall and ancient 
growth. This section of the trail is exceptionally beau- 
tiful, along i* soft, leaf-matted road, skirting the side 
of Paugus, and with a precipitous spur of Bald oppo- 
site; while at our feet lies the Champney valley. For 
a mile or more we pursue this course, rising higher 
and higher all the time. Once in a while, when a rift 
in the foliage permits, we look back and obtain frag- 
mentary views of distant blue mountains. The silence 
is broken by the murmur and splashing of the brook. 

We push our way steadily onward, gaining eleva- 
tion all the time. High above the brook-bed we are 
presently confronted by a "parting of the ways." To 
the right a road runs off, leading to the crest of the 
hill we are on. This is not our road. We must keep 
to the left, climbing over a long stretch of old cordu- 
roy road. So steep is the pitch of this hill, whose side 
we arc slabbing, that, although the logs of the old cor- 



Chocoriui's Horn and Legend 135 

duroy road are firmly driven into the ground at the 
right, their left or outer ends have to be supported by 
timbers at least two feet high above the ground, to 
make the road-bed level. In many places these sup- 
ports have rotted or been burned away, and the logs 
have either fallen down or been left projecting into 
the air. Onward still we go until the road brings us 
up to the brook over which lie the charred and rotted 
remains of a log bridge. Let us pause here. 

From below, at our left, rises the subdued roar of 
a small waterfall. A foot-path leaves the lumber-road, 
following down the side of the brook to the falls 
which we hear. In the early summer of 191 5 a fire 
raged over Bald, the eastern shoulders of Paugus, and 
apparently was checked here, although on the opposite 
ridge it swept on for some distance. Hundreds of 
acres were burned over, and many magnificent trees 
succumbed to its flame. Hence with not a little care 
we must pick our way over and around charred stumps 
and logs, blackened boulders and red, leafless bushes. 

Now we stand on the large rock at the foot of the 
falls. This fall, called the Champney Fall, is a long 
thread of water, tumbling from ledges sixty to seventy 
feet in height and splashing loudly on the smooth 
broad rock at Its base. Owing to the scarcity of water, 
especially since the fire, as its bed above is now unpro- 
tected from the sun, this stream is but a mere thread. 
During the spring freshets these falls are wonderful. 

A short distance to the east, and now In plain sight, is 
another, the Pitcher Fall, exhibiting rare delicacy of 
outline. Of this fall Professor Huntington, once the 



J -^5 Passaconaway 

state geologist, said: "Not a dozen rods away, but 
almost hidden by the trees, we discover one ot the 
most beautiful falls in New Hampshire. . . . ll:ie 
sunbeams fall aslant through the trees; the eye tol- 
lows the high perpendicular ledge that runs at right 
angles to the stream, and through the leaves of the 
trees we can see the small stream where it comes over 
the ledge, then it falls down, striking the rock that 
projects just enough to throw the water m spray, and 
break, for an instant only, the continuity of thestream. 
In the entire fall there are three of these projections, 
where the water is thrown in spray, and after the con- 
tinuous fall it rests in a great basin, where it flows out 
and runs into the stream we have followed. ^ Ky 
many these falls are collectively known as the Champ- 
ney Falls, but, in reaUty, the Champney and Pitcher 
are two different falls, one being located on the main 
brook, while the other is on a branch which flows into 
the Champney at this point. Having gazed upon these 
picturesque falls, we retrace our steps, up the steep 
foot-path, to the lumber-road once more. And a sharp 
little scramble it is, too. We are ready for a few min- 
utes' breathing-time when we reach the road again. 

Here, where the lumber-road crosses the brook, we 
find ourselves in a cozy nook between the hills. At 
our very feet is a shady little pool surrounded by moss- 
covered ledges. This is known to us climbers as the 
"spring," although it is not properly a spring, but 
only a little basin into which the clear water flows 
from its rocky bed. Here we fill our canteens. One 

"Quoted in Osgood: White Mountains, 342-3- 




Photo by Arthur P. Hunt 

The Pitcher Fall 



Chocoruas Horn and Legend 137 

day, while returning alone from the summit of Choco- 
rua, my father was suddenly greeted by the sight of a 
"bob-cat" at this very point. Happily the animal dis- 
appeared as quickly as he had appeared. 

Do you notice that smoothly polished rock at the 
edge of the pool? That particular rock used to be 
covered with moss — I remember it well. When a very 
little fellow, I was sitting on it one day when, presto ! 
down I slid into the water. I was soaked to the skin 
and not until long after the sunshiny ledges had been 
gained was I dry and comfortable again. 

Roughly we estimate the "spring" as about halfway 
between the town road and Chocorua's peak, but more 
than half the work is still ahead of us. We have been 
comfortably jogging along so far, rising bit by bit, but 
now the real climb begins. We go through a short 
stretch of leafless, charred woods, and then an enor- 
mous open patch appears. We now see before us the 
northwestern face of Bald Mountain. Some years 
ago this area was stripped by the lumbermen, and, be- 
cause of the impenetrable tangle of dead trees and 
branches, it is termed the "slashing." 

Here used to grow beautiful tall and straight trees, 
as noble trees as any in our range. Probably scores of 
King George's brigs and "seventy-fours" were indebted 
to such places as Chocorua's "Cathedral Woods" for 
its masts. ^^ After the mast-trade ceased, there came 
the lumberjack and the hurricane, and lastly, though 
not least, the fire. The road skirts the left side and 
runs above the area of devastation. 

"See the chapter on the Mast Trade in this work. 



138 Passaconaway 

Because of the steepness of this part of the climb, 
frequent rests are required, and, while resting, beauti- 
ful views may be had. The sun beats down in full 
force, but, upon our recalling the chill of the woods. 
Old Sol is quite welcome. High above us Bald's ledges 
glisten, and above them the fleecy clouds, floating in a 
pure blue sky, present such a picture as may never be 
seen in Chicago, New York, or any other city. 

Looking to the north and west, we see an innumer- 
able company of mountains, like an immense herd of 
rolling blue elephants. Far below are emerald farms 
bespecked with houses, the town road, and the wrig- 
gling and meandering Swift River which plays hide- 
and-seek with the road. Perhaps the stillness is bro- 
ken by a shrill whistle or cry, and, high above us, we 
see a magnificent eagle. There have been summers 
when from this spot we have repeatedly seen a pair of 
huge eagles, sometimes near, sometimes far away. 

As we rise higher, the mountain system unfolds it- 
self. To the north and west, faint blue ridges are 
ever added to our view. Almost at our feet we see the 
precipitous spur of Bald. While descending at about 
this spot in the summer of 191 5, we noticed two khaki- 
clad objects walking about amid the charred and red 
forest. On nearer view, they turned out to be two 
large deer. We watched them for a few minutes, un- 
til, taking fright, they bounded off and were lost to 
sight in the charred debris. 

Now a narrow patch of woods bars our approach 
to the ledges. It is soon traversed and wc arrive at a 
curving ledge upon whose top we see a white sign- 



Chocorua' s Horn and Legend 139 

board saying "Path." From here on, our progress is 
guided 'by piles of stones, and formerly by spots of 
white paint also. As a ledge cannot be "blazed" 
with a hatchet, these little guide-posts have been 
erected by the Appalachians. We make our way for- 
ward, across slippery ledges, over patches of disinte- 
grated rock, and sometimes along a tiny path closely 
fringed with blueberry bushes and occasional patches 
of dwarf trees. 

At length the lofty ridge between Paugus and Bald, 
which connects Chocorua with the latter, is gained. 
Last summer, shortly after dinner, we noticed that the 
sky had suddenly clouded over. As usual, we had 
eaten our lunches just over the eastern slope of the 
summit. We saw a storm rapidly approaching and 
pouring down in such sheets that already Passacon- 
away had been blotted out. Instead of crawling under 
the "Cow," or seeking out some sheltering ledge or 
cave, we dashed for this very ridge. For a thick stunted 
growth is here so closely matted together that, by 
crawling under it, one is almost rain-proof. No sooner 
had we made ourselves secure in this shelter than, with 
the fury of a mountain demon, the storm broke. Did 
it hail and pour ? I never saw anything like it. A party 
of Appalachians, I think, returning by the Piper Trail, 
passed within fifty feet of us; we could hear their con- 
versation plainly, yet they did not see us. They hur- 
ried by, tightly clutching their coat collars and strug- 
gling against the driving rain and gale. I need not 
say that even before the storm raged five minutes these 
luckless climbers were thoroughly drenched. Half an 



140 Passaconaway 

hour later, the sun again beat upon us and wc left our 
cozy shelters, warm and dry. Looking east, towards 
Conway, we saw a beautiful triple rainbow, the left 
end of which seemed to rest in Walker's Pond, while 
the other was near the Madison station. All three 
bows were perfect in outline and coloring. 

The few remaining rods are quickly crossed, and 
we stand upon the northern and lesser summit of Cho- 
corua. From here a noble view may be had, much 
like that from the peak, except southward. Before 
us looms Chocorua, dark and forbidding, as if the 
weather had darkened it — like a battleship — to conceal 
it from its adversaries. Says Ward: "I know nothing 
more wildly beautiful or more unique in the White 
Mountains than this immense granite shaft which sud- 
denly presents itself when, in the ascent, the crest of 
Bald is reached, or which seems to rise straight into 
the sky from the south. The appearance is more 
massive and more grand than when you see it from 
the level of the summits in the distance. Here it rises 
in front of you to a height of perhaps eight hundred 
feet almost straight into the air, without a tree, or 
hardly a bit of scrub, to relieve the weather-beaten 
granite cliffs, which are so steep that without the aid 
of man the peak would be almost unreachable. . . . 
I know not anjrwhere a cliff that rises sheer into the 
sky with such abruptness and massiveness as the chief 
peak of Chocorua which towers almost over your head 
when you tre at the base of its principal elevation." ^^ 
I should advise all trampers and photographers wish- 

"Ward: White Mountains, 144-5. 



I 



Chocoruas Horn and Legend 141 

ing to take away with them adequate memories and pic- 
tures of Chocorua, that they fail not to view the 
peak from this northern spur. The views from the 
southern approach are not complete without this other. 

But this castellated promontory is not the summit. 
Our real conquest is still ahead of us. The main for- 
tress must yet be stormed. We cross the ridge, de- 
scend into the little ravine, and soon reach the spring. 
This is marked by a white cross painted on a flat shel- 
tering rock facing the north, overhanging the tiny pool 
below. Over massive blocks of granite, through cre- 
vasses and up cracks in rocks we scramble, and shortly 
reach a little circular path leading to the summit. At 
last, all breathless, we reach our goal. Here upon 
the very topmost rock — about as large as a good- 
sized dining-table ^* — we find a sixty-foot flag-pole, 
firmly guyed to the rocks, and from which on excep- 
tionally calm days float the "Stars and Stripes." The 
fire warden, residing in a tiny camp on the southwest 
side, is the "color guard." Also a circular stand is at- 
tached to this peak. The pole and stand were recently 
erected. The circular stand formerly held a map 
which included all the country visible from Chocorua 
— of inestimable value to the tourist. Whether the 
wind or some human vandal removed this map I know 
not, but it is no longer there. 

One of the best views in the entire White Moun- 
tains may be enjoyed from Chocorua. Many descrip- 
tions of the skyline have been written. Those who 
make the ascent will find the following account from 

"Compare Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 70, 



142 Pas 5 aeon aw ay 

Osgood comprehensive and accurate : — "On the west, 
below and adjoining Chocorua, are the ledges on 
Paugus, whose top is nearly level, and has no peak. 
Over its right side is the dark and prominent Passa- 
conaway, falling off sharply on the right; and over its 
long southern flank, across the upper clearings of 
Sandwich, is Mt. Israel, rising behind the low cone of 
Young Mt., Mt. Wonalancet being in the foreground, 
south of Paugus. On the right of Israel, and much 
higher, is the dark mass of Sandwich Dome. White- 
face is nearly west, on the left of and adjoining Pass- 
aconaway. On the right of and beyond Passacon- 
away is the long and many-headed ridge of Tripyra- 
mid, beyond which are the sharp peaks of Tecumseh 
and Osceola, the latter being seen on the left of the 
white mound of Potash, which is below in the Swift 
River Valley. Much farther away in this direction 
(west by north) is the high plateau of Moosilauke, 
over the Blue Ridge. About northwest, towards Mt. 
Hancock, is the square-topped mass of Green's Cliff; 
and the high spires of the Franconia Range rise on 
the distant horizon, with the gray sierra of Lafayette 
most conspicuous. On the right of Hancock is the 
imposing pile of Mt. Carrigain, looming up boldly out 
of the Pemigewasset Forest; and on its eastern side is 
the sharply cut and profound gorge of the Carrigain 
Notch, through which a part of Mount Bond range is 
seen. Close on the right of the Carrigain Notch is 
the remarkably pointed peak of Mt. Lowell, flanked 
on the right by Mts. Anderson and Nancy, on the 
same ridge. Under this range is Tremont, with its 



Chocorua's Horn and Legend I43 

highest point between Anderson and Nancy; and Mt, 
Hale appears over Anderson. On the right of Tre- 
mont, and near it, is the sharp crest of Bartlett Hay- 
stack; and between and far beyond Tremont and Hay- 
stacli are Mts. Willey and Field. The purple cliffs 
of Mt. Willard are over the crest of Haystack, in the 
White Mt. Notch, through which a part of Mt. De- 
ception is seen. 

"About north-northwest, six miles distant across the 
Swift River Valley, is the long ridge of Bear Mt., 
covered with woods, and on the right of Haystack. 
Between Haystack and Bear are seen the richly col- 
ored stripes on the side of Mt. Webster. Farther to 
the right, over Bear, is Mt. Clinton, below which is 
the red crest of Crawford, with Resolution and Giant's 
Stairs on its right. Mt. Pleasant is over the right of 
Bear showing a round and dome-like crest, beyond and 
above which are Franklin and Monroe, west-of- 
north of Chocorua. The houses on Mt. Washington 
are about north, between Mts. Parker and Langdon, 
beyond the Saco, and Bear and Table Mts., north of 
the Swift River. Table is the mountain on the right 
of Bear, in the same ridge, and Iron Mt. is over its 
flank. Above Iron is the deep cleft of the Pinkham 
Notch, through which Mt. Madison is seen. On the 
right of and adjoining Table is the long imposing 
ridge of Moat Mt., over whose northern peak are 
the crests of Thorn Mt. and Double-Head, with Bald- 
face lifting its white ledges beyond. The pyramid of 
Kearsarge rises above the southern peak of Moat, and 
is marked by a house; and the rocky mounds of the 



144 Passaconaway 

Eagle Ledge and the Albany Haystack are across the 
Swift River, toward the southern peak. To the right 
of and south of Kearsarge are Blackcap, Middle Mt., 
and others of the Green Hills of Conway, with the 
clearings of North Fryeburg and Lovell visible 
through their gaps. 

"The character of the view now changes from a 
tumultuously upheaved land of mountains to populous 
plains, dotted with hamlets and ponds, and diversified 
here and there by low ridges. The white Conway 
road runs north along the base of Chocorua, curving 
away from its formidable rocky flanks and lined with 
farms. The beautiful meadows of the Saco emerge 
from behind Moat Mt., and pass away to the east in 
graceful bends. The fair village of Fryeburg is about 
fifteen miles east-northeast, on the left of and beyond 
which are the bright waters of Kezar, Upper Kezar, 
Upper Moose, and Long Ponds. Lovewell's Pond 
is close to Fryeburg, on the right. Nearer at hand is 
the bright hamlet of Conway Corner, at the conflu- 
ence of the Swift and Saco rivers. Farther out in 
this direction is Mt. Pleasant, a long and rolling ridge 
which uplifts a white hotel near its centre. On the 
right of Conway, due east, is the broad mirror of 
Walker's Pond, over which are the Frost and Burnt- 
Meadow Mts., in Brownfield. Farther to the right, 
over Cragged Mt. and the hills of Hiram and Sebago, 
is the broad gleam of Sebago Lake. To the east- 
southeast the view passes over the Gline and Lyman 
Mts., and across the counties of lowland Maine, to 
the city of Portland, at the gates of the sea. On a 



Chocorua's Horn and Legend 145 

clear day a wide extent of the ocean can be seen in 
this direction, and extending away to the right. Far- 
ther to the right, over the adjacent Whitton Pond, 
are the distant hills of Cornish and Limington; and 
nearly southeast, over the hamlet of Madison, is Mt. 
Prospect, in Freedom. About one mile from Madi- 
son, and six miles from Chocorua, is the broad oval 
of Silver Lake, with the formless ridge of the Green 
Mt. in Effingham over it. The ampler sheet of Os- 
sipee Lake is to the right of and beyond Silver Lake, 
and on its right, far out on the horizon, over the hills 
of North Wolfborough, is the crest of Copple Crown. 
"Chocorua Lake is close to the base of the moun- 
tain, on the south, with its gracefully curving sandy 
beaches, bordered with trees; and the white Chocorua 
Lake House is on the hill beyond, towards the hamlet 
of Tamworth Iron Works, with its tall-spired church. 
In the plain beyond are the hamlets of Tamworth Cen- 
tre, South Tamworth, and West Ossipee, and the 
White and Elliot Ponds. Then comes the long Os- 
sipee Range, filling the horizon from south to south- 
southwest, with the ledgy sides of the Whittier Peak, 
below South Tamworth. The twin Belknap peaks 
peer over the Ossipee Mts. and are clearly seen. On 
the right of the range are portions of Moultonbor- 
ough Bay, Lake Winnepesaukee, and Northwest Bay, 
studded with islets and divided by peninsulas. The 
Bearcamp and Red-Hill Ponds are next seen, with 
the hamlet of Sandwich Lower Corner, beyond which 
rises the double swell of Red Hill. About southwest, 
over the white village of Centre Sandwich, is the ex- 



146 Passaconaway 

quisite beauty of Squam Lake, with Its blue bosom 
dotted with wooded islands. The sharp crest of Kear- 
sarge is over its left part; the Bridgewater Hills are 
over the centre; and Mt. Prospect, near Plymouth, is 
farther to the right." ^^ 

On the verge of the eastern slope of Chocorua is 
an approximately cubical rock, which is called the 
"Cow." It rests upon a narrow, saucer-shaped shelf. 
Under it there is a space several feet long and about 
a foot and a half high, which has sheltered many a 
traveler during the wild mountain storms. ^^ I have 
tried In vain to discover its resemblance to a cow. I 
do not know why a rock of this shape should be called 
a "cow." It looks more like a liberty-cap than a cow, 
and if I were naming it, I should call it "Liberty Cap." 
Such a name, too, would commemorate the one who 
made a trail up here and first tried the experiment of 
maintaining a "Peak House," later carried on so suc- 
cessfully by Mr. Knowles. This pioneer was "Jim" 
Liberty, better known as "Dutch" Liberty, concern- 
ing whom I shall have more to say later. 

After drinking in the wonderful view, let us eat 
our dinner near the Cow, where we are protected from 
the strong northwest winds by the summit. Here, 
amid blueberries and sunshine, we may turn our at- 
tention to an entirely different feature of this moun- 
tain — the feature without which no mountain is really 
complete — its history, or, at least, its thrilling legend. 

"Osgood: White Mountains, 339-341. 

**See Eastman: East of the White Hills, 40-41; Bolles: At the 
North of Bearcamp Water, 68. 



Chocorua s Horn and Legend 147 

Chocorua was a real Indian. An old settler of 
Tamworth, Joseph Oilman, often used to converse 
with an older pioneer who had been on intimate terms 
with the Indian. ^''^ There are several entirely differ- 
ent versions of the Chocorua legend, all agreeing, 
however, on the chieftain's death here. The Albany 
records have burned, so that nothing may be learned 
from that source. But I will give the legend in the 
forms in which it usually appears. It has been said 
that Whittier deemed the legend too sad to put into 
verse, ^* 

Perhaps the commonest version is that given by 
Lydia Maria Child, as follows: — At a late period in 
the history of the Indians around Conway and Al- 
bany, Chocorua was among the few remaining red 
men. His son, nine or ten years old, became intimate 
with the family of Cornelius Campbell, a Scot who 
had fled from the wrath of the Stuarts. One day 
the little Indian lad swallowed some poison, which 
Campbell had scattered about his cabin to kill a trou- 
blesome fox, and went home to his father to die. 
Chocorua, perhaps naturally, blamed Campbell, and, 
during the absence of the latter, he murdered the 
Scot's family. 

The Albany settler tracked the Indian to the sum- 
mit of the present Mount Chocorua and called upon 
the fugitive either to throw himself into the abyss 
below or be shot. To this Chocorua made reply: 
" 'The Great Spirit gave life to Chocorua and Cho- 

" Merrill: History of Carroll County, 106. 

"See J. Warren Tyng, in Granite State Magazine, III, 186. 



148 Passaconaway 

corua will not throw it away at the command of the 
white man.' 'Then hear the Great Spirit speak in 
the white man's thunder!' exclaimed Cornelius Camp- 
bell. . . . Chocorua, though fierce and fearless as a 
panther, had never overcome his dread of fire-arms. 
He placed his hands upon his ears, to shut out the 
stunning report; the next moment the blood bubbled 
from his neck, and he reeled fearfully on the edge of 
the precipice. But he recovered himself, and, raising 
himself on his hand, he spoke in a loud voice, that 
grew more terrific as its huskiness increased, 'A curse 
upon ye, white men ! May the Great Spirit curse ye 
when he speaks in the clouds, and his words are fire! 
Chocorua had a son, and ye killed him while the sky 
looked bright ! Lightning blast your crops ! Winds 
and fire destroy your dwellings ! The Evil Spirit 
breathe death upon your cattle ! Your graves lie in 
the war-path of the Indian ! Panthers howl and 
wolves fatten upon your bones! Chocorua goes to 
the Great Spirit, — but his curse stays with the white 
man!"'^« 

Drake's version of the legend makes Chocorua de- 
fiantly spring from the rock into the unfathomable 
abyss below, before the appalled hunter can fire a 

'"Lydia Maria Child, quo. in Willey: Incidents in White Mt. His- 
tory, 272-6; Starr King: The White Hills, Their Legends, Landscape 
and Poetry, 145-49; Eastman: East of the White Hills, 41-47; Bent: A 
Bibliography of the White Mts., index, "Chocorua"; Musgrove: The 
White Hills in Poetry, 340-1; Caverly: The Bride of Burton; David 
H. Hill's poem on Chocorua, in Merrill: History of Carroll County, 
N. H., 117-124. 



Chocorua's Horn and Legend 149 

shot.2o 

For years after, as will be shown in another chap- 
ter, the country seemed to have fallen under this 
curse. 

A second legend, very similar to the first, describes 
Chocorua as a chief of the Ossipees, who loved his 
native land too well to leave it. With a small band 
he held this mountain as an observation post. Here 
rangers, in quest of the bounty for scalps offered by 
the Massachusetts Government, destroyed his band 
and pursued their chief to the summit, where he 
pleaded his friendliness to the English and offered 
himself as prisoner. But the blood-money was too 
tempting and the white men were inexorable. Cho- 
corua, flinging forth his terrible curse, leaped from the 
dizzy height. 

A third tradition, in all probability less authentic 
than the others, says that in 1761, long after Love- 
well's Fight, when the power of the Pequawkets had 
been broken and they, together with the Ossipees, had 
fled to Saint Francis in Canada, Chocorua returned, 
seeking revenge, and was shot on this mountain. ^^ 

Charles J. Fox has embodied the legend in verse, 
as follows: — 

^ Drake: The Heart of the White Mountains, 22-4; New England 
Legends and Folk-Lore, 469-472. 

^Merrill: History of Carroll County, 116; Osgood, 341; Charlton: 
New Hampshire as It Is, 89. 



ISO Passaconaway 



"DEATH OF CHOCORUA 

"On the cliff's extremest brow 
Fearless stands Chocorua now; 
Last of all his tribe, and he 
Doomed to death of cruelty. 
O'er the broad green vales that lie 
Far beneath, he cast his eye. , . , 

" 'Lands where lived and died my sires. 
Where they built their council-fires ; 
Where they roamed and knew no fear, 
Till the dread white-man drew near; 
Once when swelled the war-cry round. 
Flocked a thousand to the sound ; 
But the white men came, and they 
Like the leaves have passed away. 

" 'Wo to them who seek to spoil 
The red owners of the soil ! 
Wo to all who on this spot 
Fell the groves, or build the cot! 
Blighted be the grass that springs! 
Blighted be all living things! 
And the pestilence extend, 
'Till Chocorua's curse shall end!' 

"On his murderers turned he then; 
Eyes shall ever haunt those men ; 
Up to heaven a look he cast, 
And around — beneath — his last! 
Far down and lone, his bones are strewn, 
The sky his pall, his bed of stone," ^^ 

It was "Jim" Liberty who made the pioneer experi- 
ment of running a hotel high up in the sky, on the 

^Charles James Fox: Death of Chocorua, in Charles J. Fox and 
Samuel Osgood: New Hampshire Book, 208-9; see also Musgrove: 
The White Hills in Poetry, 11 5-6. 



Chocorua's Horn and Legend 151 

shoulder of Chocorua. Later the "Chocorua Peak 
House" was purchased by Mr. David Knowles.^^ 
Once, when spending a memorable night at the Peak 
House, I saw the venerable Liberty, who at that time 
was doing some work for Mr. Knowles. Liberty 
built a good carriage-road to his Half-way House. 
From that point, the trip to the Peak House was 
made afoot or on horseback. The old Frenchman, in 
guiding parties from the Peak House up to the sum- 
mit (for the Peak House is not on the very top of the 
mountain but at the base of its conical rock apex), 
used to go barefoot in order to secure a firm foothold 
upon the slippery ledges. He would tie ropes around 
the timid and weak ones, to assist them over the most 
dangerous places in the trail. 

A clipping from an old newspaper gives us a 
graphic picture of "Jim" Liberty: "It was at the old 
Half-way House, a little pine board shack in the heart 
of the black growth that binds with a grasp like iron 
the belt of Chocorua, most picturesque of mountains 
in the White Hills. 

"Mrs. Liberty laid aside her dish towel and came 
out and stood on the steps. 

" 'Be this your first visit up Chocoruay?' she asked 
pleasantly. 'Well, you all must come in an' rest yer- 
selves. Mountain climbin' ain't so easy as it looks, 
leastways Chocoruay ain't — won't you all have a 
drink of water? You be the first folks so far this 
mornin', but ain't a day we don't have near fifty, an' 
sometimes more'n that. They comes from all parts. 

"See Rollins: Tourists' Guide-Book, N. H., 131. 



152 Passaconaway 

You all will see 'em comin' by an' by. Be you goin' 
clear to th' peak?' She put a stick of silver birch on 
the fire. 'Wall, now, but you got a fine day for it. I 
guess it be right smart windy up along the peak, but 
all the folks who come around here says they wouldn't 
miss Chocoruay, not for nothin'.' 

"The little white-haired old woman sat down by 
the window and folded her hands. How the wind 
whistling through the cracks in the boards brought 
with it sweet odor of the pines. A mountain stream, 
water clear as dew and white and cold as frost, ran 
away from the house towards the far-away lake, Cho- 
corua Lake. . . . 

"Straight from the back door of the Half-way 
House up the mountain side, until it was lost in the 
trees, wound the trail, the 'Liberty Trail.' 

" 'You'll find it muddy to-day, I guess,' went on the 
old lady, 'in parts; but, law, it's all kind of ways goin' 
up a mountain, some mud, some corduroy, some har- 
ricane, an' some rocks — good many rocks, but Lib- 
erty an' me, we keep it up pretty well; ain't no com- 
plainin', an' it wa'nt easy. How long I been here? 
Well, I ain't been here only since I merried Liberty, 
but he's been here goin' on more'n thirty years, an' 
long 'fore that he made the road up Chocoruay. 
Lonely? Wall, a lots o' city folks here in summer 
time, you know, an' long after till the last of October, 
but then by the time winter shets in thar's never a 
livin' soul, 'cept maybe a party comin' fer lumber 
oncet in a while. But I ain't complainin'. I says to 
myself: "God give me good health an' a roof ter 



Chocorua s Horn and Legend 153 

cover mc, an' He put me down here on Chocoruay 
Mountain, an' here I am ter stay." Here comes Lib- 
erty now. I guess he'll put up your teams.' 

"Dutch Liberty is a little old man 'going on nigh 
seventy-five.' 'I look after ze teams — for pay,' said 
he, pushing back his slouch hat from his bristling 
gray eyebrows, 'an' I haf to see zat ever one, he give 
his toll!' 'Dutch' Liberty is a French-Canadian, de- 
scended from one of the early coureurs de bois, so 
many of whom made up the first explorers of New 
Hampshire, as well as the great Northwest. Liberty 
is called Dutch by his Yankee brethren because his 
English is so lame and halting, and up here any kind 
of broken English or incomprehensible temperament 
is called Dutch. Then, too, there was another reason. 
After Liberty first opened his trail up Mount Cho- 
corua, he placed a signboard on one of the blazed trees 
with a hand roughly drawn in charcoal inscribed: 
'Dot vay,' and 'that be Dutch,' folks around here said, 
'so Liberty be a Dutchman.' He is, however, in his 
disposition to exact his dues, true-bred Yankee. . . . 

" 'Which ever ze way you go,' observed Dutch Lib- 
erty, 'be he to ze right or be he to ze lef, you weesh 
to God you took ze other, so ees he not all ze same 
thing?'" 2^^ 

Let us take the precipitous path down to Mr. 
Knowles' Peak House, for it would be a great pity to 
leave the mountain without visiting this unique hos- 
telry in sky-land. Picking our way downward, by the 
help of an occasional railing, and here and there a 

"* Ethel Marie Armes in Boston Transcript, 1902 — probably. 



154 Passaconaway 

short flight of stairs, we catch glimpses of the house. 
Upon closer observation we see steel cables running 
over the roof and anchoring it to the rock. On the 
night when our tent blew down, and when the Passa- 
conaway House barn-door blew off, all of these cables 

except one snapped. Had that gone ! Not long 

ago Mr. Knowles built a large addition, a one-story 
dining-hall, which he thought it would be unnecessary 
to cable down. The following winter, I think, he spent 
abroad, and, upon returning, found his dining-hall 
scattered all over the eastern side of the mountain. 

Our delighted eyes are greeted with gorgeous sun- 
set views over the western mountains and the lake- 
country. Some people prefer to view the sunset from 
the peak but that necessitates a descent in semi-dark- 
ness, which is not pleasant and is somewhat dangerous. 
I recall a lover of sunset scenes who, some years ago, 
under great difficulties, was satisfying his desire. A 
horse brought him up from the lower world to the Peak 
House. This man was a cripple, the unfortunate vic- 
tim of some trouble necessitating the continual use of 
crutches. Shortly before six o'clock he disappeared, 
and all search was fruitless; but after seven o'clock we 
saw him, in the fast waning light, swinging himself 
down from ledge to ledge as he came from the summit, 
a very difficult feat for an able-bodied man in broad 
daylight. 

Let me recall a night in the Peak House. The roar- 
ing wind, which fairly rocks our mountain shelter, 
causes the carpet to roll in waves like billows on a 
storm-lashed sea. We gladly respond to the supper 



Chocorua' s Horn and Legend 155 

bell, and with zest devour steak and potatoes and Mr. 
Knowles' far-famed hot blueberry pie. Soon darkness 
envelopes the house. We study the twinkling lights of 
far-off Portland for a time, then, wearied with our 
climb, we retire and speedily fall asleep. 

Next morning before four o'clock the bright tints 
of the eastern sky prophesy the coming of a new day. 
Before five the gorgeous sun begins to come into view 
over Mount Pleasant, Maine. "Are we on the ocean?" 
we ask ourselves, for all beneath us is hidden in a 
white impenetrable curtain of cloud, above which the 
mountain peaks, here and there, appear as islands on 
a boiling sea. The entire earth seems to be passing 
through an all-encompassing flood, with only the lofty 
peaks unsubmerged. This scene is short-lived, for, no 
sooner has Old Sol come out in his dazzling brightness 
than the clouds rise in perpendicular columns and pres- 
ently vanish in the thin air. While beholding this scene 
one exclaims, "Transported with the view, I am lost 
in wonder and praise." ^^ 

At half-past seven the breakfast bell again welcomes 
us to the dining-room. We enjoy our meal of ham 
and eggs, after which we select some mountain post 
cards, and souvenirs made by the Bartlett Indians, 
which mine host keeps on sale. Then, shouldering our 
packs, we bid adieu to the picturesque "Knowles' 
Knoll," and, in a couple of hours, say farewell to Mount 
Chocorua itself until another summer, in our hearts 
most cordially indorsing the sentiment of Mr. Whittier 
which he once expressed in a letter to the artist, J. 

" Granite Monthly, XLII, 275. 



156 Passaconaway 

Warren Tyng: "I sympathize with thee in thy love 
for the New Hampshire hills, and Chocorua is the 
most beautiful and striking of all." -® 

Since writing the foregoing description of a night on 
Chocorua, I have learned that the Peak House has been 
blown to pieces. It was on September 26, 19 15, that 
the building was destroyed. The steel cables did not 
snap this time, but, in spite of these, the boards and 
beams were torn one from another and wafted out 
like straws over the valley. Happily the house was 
unoccupied at the time of its destruction. In all prob- 
ability a new hotel will be erected without delay. 

The altitude of Mt. Chocorua is 3,508 feet.^'^ 

^ See Musgrove: White Hills in Poetry, 338. Granite State 
Magazine, III, 94. 

■'A. M. C. Guide to Paths in the White Mountains, 1916, 311. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE NORTHERN SKY-LINE 

LOOKING northward from the upper end of the 
Albany Intervale, a charming picture is seen. In 
the foreground lie the level meadows, terminating at 
the sandy beach of the Swift River. Tall trees artis- 
tically fringe the farther bank of the winding stream. 
Then the deep forest begins, for a short space stretch- 
ing over level ground and then rising until, at length, 
the silver-threaded crest of Birch Ridge is gained. As 
a fitting background to this restful foreground is an 
imposing semicircle of mountains reaching from Bear 
to Hitchcock. These peaks, some light green, others 
covered with dark growth and still others a deep pur- 
ple or blue, here and there displaying a ledge or rocky 
summit, form what is considered by many one of the 
most thoroughly satisfying and typical mountain sky- 
lines in New Hampshire. 

In the eastern corner, over whose southern shoulders 
the first glow of dawn appears, lies Bear Mountain, 
between the valleys of the Saco and the Swift.^ Ap- 
propriately indeed was this wilderness monster named. 
The dark furry back, well rounded, and humpy near 
the shoulders, the little ridge of fur rising on the wrin- 
kled neck, and the bent head smothered in its massive 

^Compare Osgood's: White Mts., 128. 

157 



158 Passaconaway 

paws, easily shapes itself into a great bear in repose. 

Of course all depends upon the viewpoint. From 
the town road at the base of Bear, the mountain ap- 
pears precipitous and angular; while from our end of 
the intervale, southwesterly from Bear, not a sharp 
angle is seen. Its surface is all smooth knobs. Years 
ago Bear was clothed in a coat of dark spruces. The 
lumbermen have sadly mutilated its western slopes, 
leaving huge, ghastly slashes from their merciless 
shears. Time is gradually restoring the original beauty, 
however. 

Although of insignificant altitude, Bear is imposing. 
It is rarely visited, however.^ This is because, first, 
there is no path to the top. After leaving a logging 
road, which terminates well up on its side, one must 
strike through a tangle to reach the top of the ridge. 
An almost impenetrable growth has shot up among the 
tumbledown and the very summit is so barricaded with 
prostrate logs, underbrush and stones that the intrusion 
of a climber seems to be resented.^ The second and 
weightier reason is that, as the top is heavily wooded, 
one must seek fragmentary views from distant lookouts. 
But even from these lookouts only an ordinary view 
may be had. Of Choconja, Moat, the surrounding 
peaks and our valley the view is good, but of Washing- 
ton and its neighbors, only moderate.^ 

Between Bear and Bartlett Haystack — northwest of 
the former — lies the Bear Mountain Notch, through 

^Osgood: White Mts., 138. 

'Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 243-251. 

* Compare Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 243-251. 



I 



I 



The Northern Sky-Line 159 

which many trampers pass. This affords the shortest 
cut from the Albany Intervale to the Presidential re- 
gion. Years ago the Bartlett Land and Lumber Com- 
pany built a railroad through the notch, but this long 
ago rotted away. A bright spot on the "Notch Trail," 
in the very heart of lonely solitude, was a cozy little 
cabin formerly owned by Charlie Brewster, who lived 
here alone on the side of Bear for a number of years. ^ 

High above and in plain sight from the road, and 
perhaps accessible from it, a flat-topped ridge extends 
from Bear to Moat; this is known as Table Moun- 
tain.^ This mountain is not visible from our "Great 
Intervale," however. Table is only 2,663 ^^^t in alti- 
tude, while Bear is 3,230 feet."^ 

Bartlett Haystack, also known as Silver Spring or 
Mount Revelation,^ lies to the northwest of Bear. 
From our valley the mountain resembles a saddle more 
than a haystack, there being a deep depression between 
two wooded cones. For a low mountain Bartlett Hay- 
stack is imposing, because of its sharpness. It is only 
2,995 feet in altitude.^ Remarkable views of the Al- 
bany and Bartlett valleys, and good views of the sur- 
rounding country and the Presidential mountains may 
be enjoyed. From either Cobb's Ford, in Bartlett, or 
by the "Notch Trail," the ascent usually is made. The 
latter, although shorter, is much more difficult, there 

'See A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 174. 

'Osgood: White Mountains, 128. 

' U. S. Geo. Survey, Crawford Notch Sheet. 

*A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 178. 

•U. S. Geo. Sur., Craw. Notch Sheet. 



i6o Passaconaway 

being no definite trail, and no party should attempt to 
climb by this route without either an experienced 
woodsman or one well acquainted with the local ter- 
rain. The view fully repays one for his toil.^*^ 

The third mountain in our northern sky-line, as our 
eyes travel from east to west, is Tremont, whose peak 
several years ago was swept by fire,^^ but which nature 
is slowly re-clothing. Because of a ridge uniting Tre- 
mont with its more northeasterly neighbor, of which we 
have spoken in the preceding paragraph, these two 
mountains are known jointly as the Bartlett Hay- 
stacks. ^^ Tremont's bare granite summit is somewhat 
rounded at the top, and from Chocorua's heights re- 
sembles a sharp cone, gorgeously glittering when snow- 
covered in winter. From "Shackford's" it appears as 
a huge, white-capped wave. This mountain is a cluster 
of lowly peaks which at length condense into one 
knobby ridge. ^^ A slide on its southwestern slope ex- 
tends from near the summit to the edge of Sawyer's 
Pond, and may be seen from many of the neighboring 
lookouts. One can get a glimpse of this slide even 
from Sabbaday Falls. 

Many claim that the semicircular hill-top south of 
Tremont is only a spur of Tremont, while others assert 
that it should be classed as a separate mountain. This 
is Owl Cliff. Its massive face strikingly reminds one 
of an owl: There are the huge, hollowed-out eyes, sep- 

"A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 178. 
"Osgood: White Mts., 130. 
" Same. 
"The same. 



The Northern Sky-Line i6i 

arated by a prominent curved beak, and the trees at its 
base form the feathery neck and shoulders. Especially 
at approaching dusk or on bright moonlight evenings 
is this resemblance the more remarkable. Then the 
beak shines, and the huge dark eyes seem alive and 
dancing with their savage fire. The most frequent 
visitors to these peaks are deer and bear. For several 
summers a pair of eagles apparently had their home on 
or near the ledges of Owl Cliff. At the foot of the 
precipices, the deer make their yard during the winter, 
and you may see many trees with the bark stripped off 
by deer to the height of six or seven feet. 

From our valley the ascent of either Tremont or 
Owl Cliff should not be attempted without some 
knowledge of the lay of the land, for one easily loses 
his way.^^ An A. M. C. register may be found on Tre- 
mont. From the summit are enjoyed fine views of the 
Presidential and surrounding ranges, the Swift and 
Saco valleys, and the Carrigain Notch. ^^ The hope 
has been expressed that, by running a path from Upper 
Bartlett, Tremont may be opened up to a larger num- 
ber of trampers,^*' From the Albany side the route 
would be too long and arduous. Tremont is 3,365 feet 
in altitude, lifting its peak 415 feet above Owl Cliff, 
which is 2,950 feet high.^''' 

To the north of our cottage, in the blue distance, lies 
a truly Alpine scene. Between Tremont and the Car- 

^' Compare A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 176. 

"Osgood: White Mts., 130; A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 176. 

^"Osgood: White Mts., 130. 

"U. S. Geo. Surv., Craw. Notch Sheet. 



1 62 Passaconaway 

rigain Notch are three sharp peaks. This range is 
known as the Nancy Range, and comprises Lowell, An- 
derson, Nancy and Bemis. Mount Bemis, however, is 
not visible from our valley. These mountains are 
heavily wooded and are separated at their bases by 
tiny lakes.^^ 

Taking the Nancy Range from west to east, let us 
begin with Lowell, the sharpest of the group. Lowell 
is a real mountain and, among the many peaks visible 
from our cottage, it is one of the few which remind us 
of the sharp mountains of Switzerland. Lowell's west- 
ern side drops off with terrible steepness, forming the 
eastern wall of the Carrigain Notch. Its sheer cliffs 
have been left bare by huge slides. Lowell was for- 
merly Brickhouse Mt., but in 1868 its name was 
changed to Lowell, in honor of a Portland gentleman 
who was an enthusiastic mountain explorer.^'' 

Mount Anderson, five feet lower than Lowell, is 
east of the latter, but because of its massive shoulders 
and less angular outlines, it presents a far less imposing 
appearance and seems like a much lower mountain. 
Mr. Anderson, for whom this peak was named, was 
the chief engineer of the Portland and Ogdensburg 
Railroad.20 

For the benefit of those who wish to climb these 
mountains, the following directions will be found help- 
ful : — "Mts. Lowell and Anderson can best be ascended 
by leaving the Carrigain Notch trail just north of the 

"A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 163. 
"Osgood: White Mts., 133. 
'''The same. 



The Northern Sky-Line 163 

Notch and following up a depression between them in 
an easterly direction until the Livermore-Lincoln town 
boundary, a blazed line, is struck. Turning south on 
this line, the summit of Mt. Lowell may be reached in 
about a mile of very steep climbing, while north about 
the same distance and same steepness is Mt. Anderson. 
An outcropping ledge on the west side of Anderson, 
near the line, gives a wonderfully fine view of Carri- 
gain, Carrigain Notch, and the Pemigewasset Wilder- 
ness. An A. M. C. register is at this point. Passing 
over the summit, the boundary may be followed down 
into the valley between Anderson and Nancy, the line 
passing between Norcross Pond and Nancy Pond, 
though not within sight of either. The line may be 
followed up the south slope of Nancy to the summit 
which is wooded and affords little view. The highest 
point is east of the town line and bears an A. M. C. 
cylinder. The trees around the register are spotted to 
aid in its location. The boundary may be followed 
down into the depression between Nancy and Bemis, 
where a good camping site is found at a small lake 
under the summit of the latter. The line may then be 
followed up an easy slope through open timber to the 
summit of Bemis, which has a number of open vistas 
affording fine though limited views. An A. M. C. 
register is on the highest point, the trees around it be- 
ing blazed. The descent may be made down the steep 
south shoulder to Nancy Brook through fine spruce 
growth, thence good logging roads may be taken out 
to the M. C. R. R., a short distance below Bemis Sta- 
tion. The above trip should only be taken by those ex- 



164 Passaconaway 

perienced In wood craft, as no paths exist and the way 
is very rough. On account of the length of the trip, 
camping equipment is necessary." ^^ 

The third of the trio, higher and more romantic than 
either Lowell or Anderson, is the gently sloping Nancy. 
Its name was formerly Mt. Amorisgelu, but eventually 
this was changed to Nancy to commemorate the victim 
of a tragedy which occurred at its base.-" Mr. Sweet- 
ser, in "Osgood's White Mountains," tells the story as 
follows: — "The bridge, brook, and mountain derive 
their names from a sad incident in the early history of 
the country. In the autumn of 1788, a young woman 
by the name of Nancy was employed in Colonel Whip- 
ple's family at Jefferson, and became engaged to one 
of the men on the farm. She gave him her two-years' 
wages when they were about to depart for Portsmouth 
to be married, but he started away during her absence, 
leaving no explanation. On her return at night she set 
out after him, hoping to catch the recreant lover in 
camp at the Notch, before the dawn. The ground was 
covered with snow, and the route for thirty miles lay 
through the forest, marked only by a line of spotted 
trees. She reached the camp, but it was abandoned, 
and after vainly striving to rekindle the smouldering 
fire, she pressed on down the Notch, fording the icy 
Saco in several places, and at last sank down In utter 
exhaustion on the south bank of Nancy Brook, where 
she was speedily chilled to death. The bitter north- 
west wind had driven blinding masses of snow upon 

"A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 161-163. 
^"Osgood: White Mts., 133. 



The Northern Sky-Line 165 

her; her clothing had become saturated in fording the 
streams; and she was found stiff and cold, with her 
head resting on her staff. The men at Colonel Whip- 
ple's had doubted that she would face the storm, but, 
becoming alarmed at her long absence, they followed 
the trail and found her, not long after her death. On 
learning of her dauntless faith and terrible fate, her 
lover became insane, and died, a few years later, in 
fearful paroxysms; and there is a tradition that long 
afterwards these valleys resounded on still nights with 
the weird and agonizing shrieks of his restless ghost." "^ 
These three mountains — Lowell, Anderson, and 
Nancy — are covered with tall growth. Although com- 
paratively free from underbrush, no paths lead to their 
summits. Their peaks are densely wooded. Lowell is 
3,730 feet, Anderson 3,725, and Nancy 3,810 feet in 
altitude.24 

That the Carrigain Notch is the most imposing notch 
in theWhite Mountains was theopinionof Prof. Vose.^^ 
This is a great hollow between Lowell, Carrigain, and 
Tremont. It is so thickly wooded that its beauty may 
best be appreciated from the overhanging ledges of its 
mountain guardians. If a road were to be built from 
the Saco country to the Pemigewasset, the natural and 
easiest route would lie through the Carrigain Notch. 
From Sawyer's Rock to the center of the pass the dis- 
tance is not more than three miles. The Appalachians 

''Osgood: White Mts., 138. 

" U. S. Geo. Surv., Craw. Notch Sheet. Compare also A. M. C. 
Guide, Part I, 161. 
*° Osgood: White Mts., 137. 



1 66 Passaconaway 

opened a blazed trail through the Carrigain Notch in 
1906.2^ 

Mt. Carrigain lies in the Pemigewasset forest be- 
tween Sawyer's River and the East Branch. It is the 
loftiest and most imposing of a group of mountains. 
Its bold and impressive outlines make it an object 
of great interest, hence BoUes calls it "Carrigain, 
the mighty." '^'^ But its remoteness from the roads has 
rendered it all but inaccessible to ordinary tourists. ^^ 

Prof. Vose, after whom Vose's Spur is named, — 
which spur is the only part of Carrigain seen from 
"Shackford's," although from Jack Allen's, Mrs. Col- 
bath's and the Mayhew Farm grand views of the main 
mountain may be had — says of Carrigain: — "It stands 
almost exactly in the centre of the vast group of the 
White and Franconia Mts., and, rising as it does to a 
height of nearly 5,000 feet, is a marked feature in the 
landscape from almost every point of view. Con- 
versely, the view from Carrigain must embrace the 
whole mountain mass, and must sweep around over all 
the principal summits. . . . Ranges and notches, huge 
mountains and broad valleys, never seen from the 
points commonly visited in this region, are spread all 
around. From its central position a better idea of the 
arrangement of the White and Franconia Mts. is had 
than from any other point, perhaps, in the whole 
group." -» 

^A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 157-161. 
^BoUes: Chocorua's Tenants, 42. 
^ See Osgood: White Mts., 134. 
^The same. 



The Northern Sky-Line 167 

A narrow ridge, several rods long, forms the sum- 
mit, which is 4,647 feet in altitude. Vose's Spur, 792 
feet lower, is more open and affords a fine outlook. 
There is another spur south of the summit known as 
Signal Ridge, for here a signal-pole was set in a pile 
of stones; from this lookout — 4,400 feet high — one 
has the best and most complete view in all directions 
except westward. The ravines between these spurs 
and the summit are very inconsiderable, and it well re- 
pays the tourist to spend some time on these lookouts, 
east and south. ^'- Surveyor Crawford was so struck 
with the view that he expressed the wish "that the next 
year a party might be sent up to clear the summit of the 
trees and thereby open up the grandest view in the 
state." -^^ A tripod now affords a good outlook. The 
first path up Carrigain was made by the Appala- 
chians in 1879. I" 1898 this was re-located. One may 
find in the "A. M. C. Guide to the Paths in the White 
Mts., 19 1 6," detailed descriptions of and directions 
concerning the path to Carrigain's summit. "- 

Philip Carrigain was born at Concord in 1772, and 
died there in 1842. He was a graduate of Dartmouth. 
He practised law at Concord, Epsom, Chichester and 
again at Concord. He was later State Surveyor, and 
from 1805 to 1 8 10 was Secretary of State of New 
Hampshire. He was also clerk of the senate. He 
made a map of the White Mountains which was pub- 
lished in 1 8 16, and for this service the "Hub of the 

'"Compare A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 155. 
"Osgood: White Mts., 134. 
''A. M. C. Guide, 1916, 240. 



1 68 Passaconaway 

White Mountains" now fittingly bears his name.^" He 
was the first to call New Hampshire the "Granite 
State." 2^ 

Julius H. Ward dev^otes an interesting chapter, en- 
titled "The Heart of the Wilderness," to Mt. Carri- 
gain. In this chapter he enthusiastically says: — "It is 
the distinguishing characteristic of Mount Carrigain 
that it is in the centre of the White Mountain system 
and holds the key to the entire country. It is a bold and 
massive peak, wooded nearly to the summit, not deso- 
late like Chocorua, not rifted with the fury of the gods 
like Mount Washington, but unique in its beauty as 
seen from a distance, and presenting a wonderful pan- 
orama of the wilderness when you have climbed its sum- 
mit and from its cairn look out at all points of the com- 
pass upon an uninhabited world. I have stood on the 
brow of the cliff that hangs over Kineo Bay at Moose- 
head Lake and strained the eye in every direction over 
the untrodden forest; I have surveyed the Adirondacks 
from the nose of Mount Mansfield and swept the field 
of vision through the lower Canadas; I have felt, as 
others have felt who have climbed these peaks, that 
there was something about the view from them and 
something in the silence that reigns upon them which 
appeals strongly to the conception of universal Nature; 
but I think that the sense of utter separation from hu- 
manity, the sense of entire lostness in the wilderness, 
the sense of the complete abandonment of the soul to 
Nature was never realized as it was during my stay of 

''A. M. C. Guide, Part 1, 155; Osgood: White Mts., 135. 
^* Appleton's Cyclopaedia of American Biography, I, 535. 



The Northern Sky-Line 169 

a few hours on the topmost peak of Mount Carri- 
gain." ^"^ Champney's celebrated painting of Mount 
Carrigain was made from near the old mill in Upper 
Bartlett.2'^ 

From our valley, little Green's Cliff, 2,903 feet 
high, shuts out the greater part of Carrigain from our 
view. No truer natural fortress could be asked for 
than this flat, perpendicular rampart offers. It is seen 
to best advantage from the knoll at Church's Pond. 
The two-mile stretch between it and the pond is as wild 
a region as can be found in the state. Logging roads 
take one to the base, but there is no path to the sum- 
mit, and it is almost never ascended by tourists. 

At the far northwestern extremity of our northern 
sky-line the dark humps of Hancock appear, in the 
Carrigain, Huntington and Hitchcock range. ^" It rises 
4,430 feet above sea level. "^^ This peak on Prof. 
Guyot's map — a very early one — is called "Pemige- 
wasset Peak." ^^ Because of its remarkably well- 
rounded humps, it has been known as Camel's Hump. 
Very steep and h&avily wooded, in places exceedingly 
rocky, is Hancock. Formerly climbers ascended it from 
the East Branch of the Pemigewasset. Hancock has 
been heavily lumbered the last few years. There is an 
A. M. C. register on a ledge near the highest point.**' 

Lying to the left of this monster is Mt. Hunt- 

^Ward: The White Mountains, 134-5. 

""Osgood's White Mountains, 127. 

"A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 163. 

''U. S. Geo. Surv., Craw. Notch Sheet. 

"Osgood: White Mts., 157. 

^''A. M. C. Guide, Part I, 163. 



170 Passaconaway 

ington, with Mt. Hitchcock just peeping over its south- 
ern shoulder. The former, although only 3,730 feet 
In altitude, ^^ bulks large to the eye. Huntington Is en- 
tirely clothed In dark green trees except for a patch of 
light-colored second growth at Its southeastern base. 
When the lumbermen cut off the dark growth here, they 
cut in such a way as to leave in the center a distinct cross 
of dark growth. This dark cross, upon its lighter 
background, is a very interesting sight, especially when 
seen from the top of Potash ; only in certain lights 
can it be seen from the level of our valley. 

From our porch Hitchcock Is indistinguishable from 
Huntington except when a cloud rests in the valley 
between the two mountains, or on misty or hazy days, 
when their separateness is manifest even to the 
stranger. 

Charles H. Hitchcock was the State Geologist of 
New Hampshire and became Professor of Geology at 
Dartmouth. Joshua H. Huntington was his Principal 
Assistant In the former office. Their contributions to 
the state were maps, researches on mountain peaks, 
and their "Geology of New Hampshire." Huntington 
spent a winter on Mount Moosllauke and another on 
Mount Washington. The volume entitled "Mount 
Washington in Winter" contains several interesting 
chapters from his pen. This little book gives one the 
shivers by its description of the Arctic conditions en- 
countered up in this land of the sky. 

At the western end of our intervale, and lying en- 
tirely within it, there is a little hill which so resembles 

"U. S. Geo. Surv., Craw. Notch Sheet. 



The Northern Sky-Line 171 

a sugar loaf, that It is named Sugar Hill. Were Its 
summit bare granite, It would be Potash's duplicate on 
a smaller scale. Its sides slope off regularly and gently 
In all directions. In altitude It Is 1,845 ^^^t. On 
Sugar Hill huge boulders are strewn in every direc- 
tion. Frank Bolles claims that this must have been 
either an island In the great lake which once existed 
In the Passaconaway Intervale, or the western shore 
of its waters. This hill is neither thickly covered 
with rich loam, as Is the valley, nor does it show 
any signs of having been submerged.^^ 

One of our favorite tramps Is up the Swift River 
Trail. This may serve as an arbitrary dividing-line 
between our northern and western sky-lines. I can do 
no better than to give in substance a description of this 
old Indian path which was written by Prof. James 
Sturgis Pray: — The Swift River Trail follows, from 
the westerly end of the Albany Intervale, the Sabbaday 
Falls Path for perhaps a mile, or a mile and a half, 
from the Passaconaway House. Thence it runs along- 
side the south bank of the Swift, "sometimes skirting 
the very edge of its high bank, commanding beautiful 
vistas up and down stream, at other times out of sight 
(rarely out of sound) of Its running water," for a mile 
and a half to Pine Bend. On this part of the trail we 
pass some noble stretches of smooth ledge. We press 
on until a logging road is gained which leads to Camp 
No. 6, perhaps a mile and a half. The divide between 
Kancamagus and Huntington is climbed and presently 
one reaches the headwaters of the East Branch of the 

"Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 281. 



172 Passaconaway 

Pemigewasset. Henry's old lumber railroad lies per- 
haps three miles west of the divide and leads to either 
North Woodstock or Lincoln. About the same dis- 
tance from the divide one finds a trail leading south 
through the Mad River Notch, between Osceola 
and Kancamagus, to Waterville. "Everywhere it is 
through beautiful forest, from once entering just above 
Shackford's, till finally coming out upon the old log- 
ging road, and even this region is beautiful again, it 
having been logged so long ago." *^ 

Among other interesting features of this trail there 
used to be a secluded cabin belonging to a prominent 
Conway physician. This was known as "Home's 
Camp," and nearly every one traveling the Swift River 
Trail enjoyed its hospitable shelter. The owner made 
it a point to keep it well supplied with non-perishable 
food and warm bedding. A few years ago this famous 
camp was destroyed by fire. In the days of its exist- 
ence, if one wished for absolute solitude, unbroken 
only by visits from wood mice, bear, and other forest 
folk, this cabin offered such a haven as exists nowhere 
else. In my chapter on adventures, etc., I shall narrate 
some experiences which took place here. 

The Swift River and Swift River Trail lie at the base 
of Mount Kancamagus. In the chapter devoted to the 
chieftain of that name will be found a brief description 
of this mountain. 

"J. S. Pray, Feb. 19, 1903, Appalachia, vol. X, 173; A. M. C. 
Guide, Part I, 178-9. 



CHAPTER IX 

SUNSET RAMPART AND THE SOUTHWESTERN QUADRANT 

TRIPYRAMID, as its name Indicates, is a triple- 
peaked mountain, all three of whose peaks seem 
to rise from a nearly horizontal ridge. Tripyramid 
towers high above all the surrounding peaks except one 
— Passaconaway. Its three peaks taper up from the 
ridge into sharply pointed cones or pyramids. From 
our valley they remind one of the steam-domes and 
sand-boxes on the boiler of a huge modern locomotive. 
Just below the crest of this ridge, a monster bear, 
chased for three days by Jack Allen and his son, met his 
fate. 

Because of its sharp peaks this mountain was for- 
merly known by the people near its western slopes as 
Waterville Haystack.^ Then, too, from its awful gran- 
deur, it long bore the name of Passaconaway.^ Later 
this royal name was transferred to another gigantic 
pile of rock of nearly the same height, Tripyramid's 
altitude being 4,121 feet, while Passaconaway is 4,116 
feet.^ Tripyramid is wooded to the summit and the 
ground is strewn with "tangled and bristling ever- 
greens," so that if any view is to be obtained one must 

^ Chas. Fay in Appalachia, vol. I, 23. 

^ Compare Chas. Fay in Appalachia, vol. VI. 

' Among the Clouds gives both as 4,200. 

173 



174 Passaconaivay 

go to the ledges on the southern side. Here a wonder- 
ful view of the lake-country may be enjoyed.* 

The west side has two mammoth land-slides. In 
Waterville the word "Tripyramid" is almost synony- 
mous with that of "land-slide." "The Great Slide on 
Tripyramid is considered by many visitors the most 
remarkable object among the curiosities of Waterville. 
It commences about two miles from Greeley's, at the 
ancient clearing known as Beckytown, and is reached 
by taking the path to the Cascades and diverging to 
the left at the forks (about one and a quarter miles 
from the house). Beckytown is 280 feet above Gree- 
ley's, and from this point the Slide may be ascended 
for two miles, gaining a farther altitude of 1,015 feet. 
This section of the devastated valley is followed by 
a small stream, and the fringes are encumbered with 
the high-piled remnants of the ruined forests. It is 
here over 1,000 feet wide, where the debris spread 
over the meadows, and it decreases in the ascent to 
125-300 feet wide. The upper half-mile narrows 
gradually from 640 to 30 feet, and has an angle of 
about 34°. 

"At two miles above the foot, the Slide turns at 
right angles with the brook, coming down directly 
off the sharp slope of Tripyramid, very broad, heaped 
with bare white rocks and their disintegrated frag- 
ments, and breaking down to the bed-rock in frequent 
places. This section is about a half mile long, and 
rises 1,100 feet, giving for the whole Slide a length 
of two and a half miles, and an altitude from base 

'Osgood: White Mts., 328. 



Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern Quadrant 175 

to top, of 2,115 ^^^t. The brook section is compara- 
tively easy of ascent, but the upper half-mile is so 
extremely steep as to enforce slow advance on the part 
of the climber, whose footing, moreover, is often very 
insecure. Beautiful views of Lake Winnepesaukee and 
the mountains to the south and west are afforded in 
retrospect. The great natural convulsion which 
caused this catastrophe took place during the remark- 
able rains of the year 1869, but was unattended with 
any loss of life or property. The Slide contains many 
points of interest to geologists and other scientific men. 
The rocks on the lower half are labradorite and os- 
sipyte, and the white boulders above are granitic." ^ 

The second slide is on an even larger scale. This 
slide is not far from the first. It seems to have laid 
open almost the entire southwestern side of the moun- 
tain. The downpour of August 13, 1885, was the 
cause of this slide. A Waterville man has given us 
the following interesting account: "On Saturday, the 
fifteenth, a small party, including Mr. Butler, started 
to find the new slide and examine it. At 'Beckytown' 
we found that most of the old clearing had disappeared. 
The brook-bed was a waste of sand and rock nearly 
two hundred feet wide. A few rods higher up, the 
width of the havoc and the amount of the debris was 
doubled. Boulders and great stones, scattered or piled 
in confused masses; high banks of mud, now being 
cut and channeled by many streams; piles of logs and 
stumps; trees stripped of limbs and bark, cruelly 
bruised and hammered, broken asunder like matches 

'Osgood: White Mts., 328. 



176 Passaconaway 

or twisted like withes; young trees bent over and their 
tops buried in mud and sand; cords of driftwood in 
the corners, often ground to fragments, finger size — 
this was the destruction before us. And this, with 
narrower limits and slight variations, was the scene 
of the next two miles. . . . Boulders piled higher 
than one's head extended in long lines parallel with the 
current, while the hard-pan of the bed rock was 
plowed down five, ten, and even twenty feet to the 
underlying granite. . . . Spruces five feet in diameter 
were broken like pipe stems. Birches almost as large 
were twisted off, leaving their ends like basket-stuff. 
Great gnarly stumps partially torn asunder were fre- 
quently seen, but never a limb nor a branch; they had 
been broken and carried away, or ground into undis- 
tinguishable fragments. We saw cracks and crevices 
in the ledges wedged tightly with log-fragments; stones 
up to four inches in diameter driven their whole size 
into the sides of green tree trunks; boulders bruised 
and scarred as though hammered by sledges of iron. 
. . . As one nears the foot of the mountain, these 
masses of slide salad become hills of twenty, thirty, 
and forty feet in height. . . . This new slide is at 
the east of and joins at the base of the 1869 slide. . . . 
The two have made the fair mountain a desert of rock. 
A narrow strip of forest separates the two slides from 
near the top to two-fifths of the way down. The slide 
of 1869 is thirty feet wide at its apex; that of 1885 
is over an hundred feet. The widest part of the old 
equals that of the new, but the new maintains a twenty- 
five per cent greater average width. . . . The slide of 



Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern Quadrant 177 

1869 has one apex, that of 1885 has three." ^ While 
this new slide was roaring down, the old one, not to be 
outdone, started afresh, ten rods above its ancient 
apex, and, rumbling over the scarred bed, contributed 
its mite to the debris in the valley.'^ 

Tripyramid may be ascended by a trail from our 
valley, although it is a long, hard day's work. The 
ascent usually is made, however, from Waterville, by 
trails up the slides, a climb of 6j/4 miles.® It has even 
been ascended by snow-shoe parties from its western 
side.° 

Between our valley and Tripyramid the bald head 
of Potash shines. Although in figures on the map this 
little hill looks negligible, yet its steepness, shape, and 
bare ledges give it an imposing distinctiveness. Potash 
is conspicuous when seen from a distance because of 
Its coarse white granite peak; this granite, the same 
as is found on the expansive ledges of Tremont and 
Green's Cliff, is known as "Conway Granite." ^"^ A 
very fine view of this stone may be had on the north- 
western slope of Potash at Sabbaday Falls. 

Potash is said by Osgood to be only a mile and a 
half from the Passaconaway House site," but, from 
repeated experiences, I can testify that these are "moun- 
tain miles." Were I to guess the distance, I should 
call the climb a good stiff 25^ miles. Potash, so 

'A. A. Butler in Appalachia, vol. IV. 

' Same. 

"A. M. C. Guide to Paths in the White Mountains, 1916, 304. 

* See Chubbuck in Appalachia, vol. VII, 14. 

"Osgood: W^hite Mts., 11, 343. 

" The same, 343. 



178 Passaconaway 

named because of its resemblance to an inverted potash 
kettle, may be ascended by a path (now uncertain). 
From the first lookout, a lower spur of the mountain, 
a well defined path runs to the great ledges. This tiny 
path passes through gloomy stretches of woods, some- 
times running over moss-covered ledges, then plung- 
ing again into the silent depths. I think this little path 
is one of the most beautiful patches of scenery in the 
Albany Intervale. 

The first lookout is a promontory some distance east 
of the dome itself. Like the summit, it presents a dis- 
tinct, though blunted cone, and is separated from the 
summit by a slight ravine. Fine views are enjoyed 
from this lookout. Pressing on to the summit we 
find that the top of Potash is broad and flat, necessitat- 
ing a walk from side to side in order to get views in 
all directions. Potash's altitude is about 3,000 feet. 

There is one most interesting and unique natural 
phenomenon which is known as the "Balanced 
Boulder." It is a smoothly rounded rock about five 
feet high and ten feet long. This stone may be rocked 
by the hand. In the summer of 19 15, while rocking 
it back and forth some boys pushed it too hard and 
it rocked too far, sticking fast. After much coaxing 
with wooden levers we finally prevailed upon it to 
return to its original pivot so that now it is in working 
order again. This boulder may be found lying a trifle 
below the southeastern side of the summit. 

From this little mountain the view is superb. To 
the east, our valley, with its few tiny houses, ribbon- 
like road, and the silver thread of river unroll at our 





'AMi s.wrl» 



•-i Qs 



Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern Quadrant 179 

feet. Bear, Moat and Chocorua form an ideal back- 
ground. Southward loom the bristling Hedgehog, 
massive Passaconaway and Whiteface. From nowhere 
else can so good a view of Passaconaway's slide be 
obtained as from the top of Potash. The slide squarely 
faces us and seems very near. On the west and to the 
north stretch miles and miles of unbroken forest. 
Scores of mountains are in sight. In these directions 
not a sign of human habitation is to be seen. The 
poet's longing "for a lodge in some vast wilderness" ^^ 
could be satisfied here. At certain times in the year, 
namely, in the blueberry season, a lunch need not be 
carried; but a weapon, for defense against bears, is 
not amiss; Potash is a good "blueberry mountain" 
and hence popular among the ursine inhabitants of 
"cloudland." Potash is one of the best "little" climbs 
to be had here, and one ought not to leave the Albany 
Intervale without scaling its broad ledges. 

From the Albany Intervale, Mt. Whiteface appears 
as a wooded dome rising above the lofty ridge which 
extends from Passaconaway to Tripyramid. But from 
the country south of the Sandwich Range the appear- 
ance of Whiteface is entirely different. The wooded 
dome becomes a huge face of granite cliffs. Because 
of this aspect from the lake country it was named 
Whiteface. In October, 1820, a landslide laid bare 
its southern face,^^ forever literally making the moun- 
tain a Whiteface. 

Whiteface may be ascended by path from the south 

"Cowper: The Task. 
"Osgood: White Mts., 335. 



i8o Passaconaway 

side, from Passaconaway, from Tripyramid or from 
Sandwich Dome; the plateau of Flat Mt. connects 
Whiteface with the last, says Osgood. From the 
southern side, at McCrille's farm in the northeastern 
part of Sandwich Township, the path follows up the 
great ravine for three miles. The remaining mile is a 
hard pull over long stretches of ledge and stones. 
Usually within three to four hours from the time of 
entering the woods the summit is reached. ^^ 

The U. S. Coast Survey erected a signal-pole on the 
summit and from here a comprehensive view of the 
lake-country may be enjoyed. If one desires he may 
obtain fine views from the northwestern lookout. A 
well worn path leads from the summit a little to the 
northeast, where there is a deliciously cool spring.^^ 
Few but the hardy climb Whiteface from our Albany 
side, although it is frequently ascended from the south. 
Its gigantic granite face towers 4,057 feet above sea 
level, ^"^ or over 150 feet lower than Passaconaway 
and Tripyramid, its two nearest and loftiest neighbors. 
There is an A. M. C. register on Whiteface. 

Before leaving Whiteface let us recall Lucy Lar- 
com's lines: 

"CLOUDS ON WHITEFACE 

"So lovingly the clouds caress his head — 

The mountain-monarch; he, severe and hard, 

"Osgood: White Mts., 335. Comp. A. M. C. Guide, 1916, 332. 
"See Osgood: White Mts., 335. 
" Among the Clouds. 



Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern Quadrant i8l 

With white face set like flint horizon-ward ; 
They weaving softest fleece of gold and red, 
And gossamer of airiest silver thread, 

To wrap his form, wind-beaten, thunder-scarred. 
They linger tenderly, and fain would stay, 
Since he, earth-rooted, may not float away. 

He upward looks, but moves not; wears their hues; 
Draws them unto himself; their beauty shares; 

And sometimes his own semblance seems to lose, 

His grandeur and their grace to interfuse; 
And when his angels leave him unawares, 
A sullen rock, his brow to heaven he bares." ^' 

And another has been moved to pen the following: 

"WHITEFACE 

"Alpine in height, a towering form it lies 
Against the blue, colossal in the morn ; 
And haply now the foamy clouds, o'erborne, 
Shall veil its summit on the eastern skies; 
And now the gentler airs shall whisper sighs, 
Or the imperious tempest-storm, forlorn. 
Whirl o'er the grim ravines and rock-ribs, shorn ; 
Yet, lo ! it stands immutable, defies 
The passion-throes of earth ! 

Symbol of power, 
It breasts the heavens; and when the shadows fall, 
When vales are blurred in dusk, watching, I see 
A nimbus clinging, like a golden shower, 

On its white brow. Even so, when truth shall pall 
On lesser souls, the great seem rapt and free!" ^* 

All but one of the southern peaks are treated in 
separate chapters as they bear Indian names, namely, 

"Luc>- Larcom: Clouds on Whiteface; see Musgrove: The White 
Hills in Poetry, 107. 

'* Stephen Henry Thayer: Whiteface; see Musgrove: White Hills 
in Poetry, 98. 



1 82 Passaconaway 

Passaconaway, Wonalancet, Paugus and Chocorua. 
The remaining one is the bristling, hump-backed hill 
named Hedgehog. This little mountain presents an 
entirely different appearance from points not far dis- 
tant from each other. From Mrs. Colbath's, a mile 
and a quarter down the road from the hotel site, 
Hedgehog would hardly be recognized as the Hedge- 
hog visible from our cottage; while from Square 
Ledge, its scrawny cliffs present an appearance both 
wild and terrible. From one place in the road this 
mountain, with one end high in the air and the other 
lost in obscurity, resembles a sinking ship with bow 
high in the air, while the stern is submerged beneath 
the waves. Especially when its leaves have turned, 
in the autumn, Hedgehog appears beautiful and even 
artistically shaped. Its two great ledges — Allen's 
Ledge on the north and the huge glass-like roof on Lit- 
tle Hedgehog to the southeast — shine like silver epau- 
lets; above and between these shoulders it lifts a mas- 
sive head. (This is the only hedgehog on record as 
wearing epaulets.) Such is Hedgehog as seen from 
our part of the valley. It is about 2,600 feet high. 

The lumber butchers unmercifully have slashed the 
poor porcupine, stripping it of many of its quills. Yet 
its sides are still very thorny, trash wood and debris 
being strewn every which way. Perhaps because of 
this, or from the fact that very similar is its view to 
that from Potash (Hedgehog's horizon, however, be- 
ing much more restricted) this mountain is seldom, 
if ever, ascended — to the summit — by visitors. 

To all who come into the Albany Intervale, however, 



Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern Quadrant 183 

even to people past the mountain-climbing age, I would 
suggest that they go up to Allen's Ledge. This van- 
tage-point affords a remarkable view — very similar to 
that seen from the higher lookouts — of all but the 
lake-country. Allen's Ledge gives you more for your 
money than any other climb. You see the Passacon- 
away Intervale, Chocorua, the Moats and other east- 
ern peaks, and the Presidential Range, the Nancy, Car- 
rigain and other ranges. On clear days we have been 
able to trace the slow upward crawl of the unique 
Mount Washington engine by the puffs of smoke it 
emits while "chugging" upward. By the aid of the 
glass, the buildings on Washington are made out. 
Vast stretches of unbroken wilderness unroll before 
our eyes, and, by the light and dark growths, the 
track of fire, hurricane and ax can be traced from 
the Carrigain Range to Moat, Paugus, Chocorua and 
Bald. 

Time and again while reclining upon these sun- 
kissed ledges we have seen eagles majestically wheel- 
ing overhead. Here, on one occasion, I lay awaiting 
the onslaught of a howling wild-cat which didn't at- 
tack, and here the bears come for their blueberry pies. 
All this for only a half mile's tramp after entering 
the woods! 

Allen's Ledge received its name when an inquirer 
asked Jack Allen what those rocks on Hedgehog were 
called. The reply was prompt and unhesitating: 
"Them are called Allen's Ledge!" So from that day 
they have been Allen's Ledge, an enduring monument 
to human modesty and veracity. Once an aged guest 



184 Passaconaway 

who was visiting us suggested that we spend our noon 
hour on Passaconaway's summit — this being her first 
visit to mountain land, she was a poor judge of moun- 
tain distances. At length we prevailed upon her to 
attempt Allen's Ledge first. She found even this little 
scramble suflSciently strenuous to satisfy her ambition 
to "do" a mountain. Being very rheumatic, she discov- 
ered that the descent was even more difficult than the 
upward climb — it being much harder on the knees to 
descend than to ascend. But the remarkably fine view 
from the ledge amply compensates one for the slight 
exertion, even if one belongs in the stiff-kneed class. 

Every American mountain-lover should plan to visit 
these "Highlands of New England" before or after 
seeking those abroad. Many widely traveled tourists 
claim that our own Crystal Hills are as attractive and 
interesting as those "across the pond." In a letter 
which Henry Ware, Jr., wrote home in August, 1831, 
he says: "Nine miles to Sandwich to breakfast, by a 
route among the hills, very like some pretty spots in 
Switzerland." ^^ The Albany Intervale has often been 
likened to the valley of the Rhone. 

The more one studies, climbs, and conquers these 
ozone-bathed heights, the more beautiful, protecting, 
and romantic they become. Love of this historic wil- 
derness grows upon one; and when one once has drunk 
in the glory and strength of the mountains, be he native 
highlander or city-born, if "cabin'd, cribb'd, confined" ^° 

'^Memoir of the Life of Henry Ware, Jr., 333. 
^'^Shakespeare: Hamlet. 



Sunset Rampart and the Southwestern Quadrant 185 

within the suffocating brick walls of "civilization," he 
pines for the soul-thrilling freedom and exhilarating 
out-of-doorness of wind-swept, cloud-washed, sun- 
kissed sky-land. 



CHAPTER X 

sabbaday's triple fall 



BY following the Swift River and Sabbaday Brook 
trails about a mile and a quarter from the former 
Passaconaway House (Shackford's) , a charming triple 
waterfall on Sabbaday Brook is reached. This was 
called by the early explorers of the valley Sabbaday 
Falls, because it was on Sunday that they reached this 
brook where the decision was made to return home.^ 
Sweetser calls the falls Church Falls, either because 
they were painted by F. E. Church, the artist — the 
picture being in the Woburn Public Library — or in 
memory of Charles Church, an early settler who lum- 
bered near the falls. 

There used to be an ancient foot-path, carpeted 
with dead leaves, leading from the open intervale up 
the Swift River. According to the legends of the val- 
ley, this was an old Indian trail, worn smooth by long 
and frequent use. The A. M. C. had placed signs, so 
that a visitor could find the falls unaided. In 1915, 
however, the lumberjacks so cut and slashed this his- 
toric trail as to obliterate it, leaving no trace of its 
famous "lightning tree," etc. By walking the lumber 
railroad and then following a logging road, one may 
nov/ reach the falls, though by a route shorter and 

' See Chapter on Albany. 

186 



Sabbaday's Triple Fall 187 

uglier than the old Indian trail. But the devastating 
ax did not stop at the trail. It injured Sabbaday Falls 
by so cutting the timber along the brook-bed above the 
falls that the watershed is now laid open to the merci- 
less sun, and the volume of water pouring over the 
falls is greatly diminished. 

On the very edge of the flume, prone on the ground, 
lies a tree which must have been blown over in some 
hurricane. In falling, the tree lifted its roots out of 
their original bed in such a manner as to form a natural 
railing opposite the prettiest part of the falls. Juliet's 
Balcony is the name we have given this parapet, and 
hundreds of visitors have leaned over it during the 
past twenty years. Few indeed are the persons leaving 
the Passaconaway valley without first having visited 
Sabbaday Falls. 

Sabbaday offers numerous natural wonders; the 
ever moist sides of the chasm, the fall itself, its 
punch-bowl, and the Devil's wash-basin still remain 
intact. Prof. Huntington gives this account of the 
falls, from the standpoint of an expert geologist: "The 
rock is a common granite, in which there is a trap-dike, 
and it is the disintegration of this, probably, that 
formed the chasm below where the steep fall now is. 
Above, just before we come to the falls, the stream 
turns to the west, and the water runs through a chan- 
nel worn in the solid rock, and then, in one leap of 
twenty-five feet, it clears the perpendicular wall of 
rock, and falls into the basin below almost on the 
opposite side of the chasm. Great is the commotion 
produced by the direct fall of so great a body of water. 



1 88 Passaconaway 

and out of the basin, almost at right angles with the 
fall, it goes in whirls and eddies. The chasm extends 
perhaps one hundred feet below where the water first 
strikes. Its width is from ten to fifteen feet, and the 
height of the wall is from fifty to sixty. The water 
has worn out the granite on either side of the trap, so 
that, as the clear, limpid stream flows through the 
chasm, the entire breadth of the dike is seen. The fall 
of the water, the whirls and eddies of the basin, the 
flow of the limpid stream over the dark band of trap 
set in the bright, polished granite, the high, overhang- 
ing wall of rock, all combine to form a picture of 
beauty, which, once fixed in the mind, is a joy forever." ^ 

The water in the gorge below the middle fall is deep 
and clear, although it boils and roars and is churned 
into foam as it comes from the upper falls. Then it 
plunges over the third and lowest fall into a pool of 
great depth in a circular basin, the sandy bottom of 
which may be clearly seen through the water. So 
swiftly does the current shoot into this pool that none 
but strong swimmers venture into its depths. 

On the ledges at the foot of this flume there is a 
"pot-hole" or a cup-shaped hollow, symmetrically 
gouged out of the solid rock in an almost perfect circle 
of perhaps two feet in depth and three feet in diameter. 
This is always partly full of water and we call it the 
Devil's wash-basin. Such pot-holes are familiar 
enough to geologists. The bed of the Connecticut 
River has many of them. 

Not the most uninteresting part of Sabbaday Falls 

^Osgood: White Mts., 343. 




Photo by J. T. Poiall 

Sabbaday's Punch Bowl 



i 



Sabbaday's Triple Fall 189 

is the upper fall. Originally the water flowed over the 
edge of a flat shelf of granite. Inch by inch, however, 
the flowing water has worn away the granite, cutting 
a polished channel back into the solid rock, until now 
the shelf has been eaten into a dozen feet or more. 
Hence, the water of this upper fall, instead of drop- 
ping perpendicularly as it did originally, now flows 
down a comparatively sloping incline. 

But the most picturesque part of the triple falls of 
Sabbaday is the middle fall. Under the flat shelf over 
which the fall first leaps there is a long, shallow cav- 
ern, perhaps eighteen or twenty inches in height. This 
depression extends in a horizontal semicircle above 
the rim of the punch-bowl, concerning which we are 
about to speak. Men have wormed their way along 
on this cut-under shelf until, reaching the spot where 
the water pours over, they have endeavored to pierce 
the liquid column with their fist. So powerfully does 
the water rush here that only the strongest can thrust 
the arm through the liquid veil. 

Then there is the punch-bowl. This is a smoothly 
polished basin of pinkish granite, hollowed out like a 
bowl, perhaps five feet in diameter. In this basin 
the water whirls and twists around in such a way as 
to form a curl not unlike the one on a "kewpie's" head, 
and then it leaps into the abyss with a roar. Some- 
times, after a storm, the curl assumes the form of a 
face. This we have christened "The Spirit of the 
Falls." 

The perpendicular walls of this wonderful chasm 
are always wet and almost painfully cold. The moss, 



190 Passaconaway 

with which the face of the precipice is covered, retains 
the moisture and lets it trickle down incessantly over 
the perpendicular ledge. 

One bright summer morning, while my father and 
I were working over near Camp Comfort, at the edge 
of the woods near the Mast Road, a child came run- 
ning towards us shouting at the top of her shrill voice. 
We hurried to our cottage where we learned that 

M , who had brought up two friends to camp near 

the falls, had just run through the valley shouting, 

"W has shot himself at the falls!" The two 

older Smith boys, starting off on the run, already had 
disappeared in the direction of the falls. My father 
made a stretcher by sawing off the legs of a canvas 
cot, gathered up a roll of cheesecloth for bandage, and 
started after them. He met the party a few rods from 
the falls. The brother of the injured man had torn 
his clothes into strips to bind the wound and make 
cross-straps for a rude stretcher of poles. Quickly 
the wound was re-bandaged with cheesecloth and the 
sufferer transferred to the more comfortable stretcher. 

While the victim was being brought down the "old 

Indian path," M raced down the town road for 

a horse and wagon. Meeting a native who was com- 
fortably jogging along in his "hahnsum kerridge," ^ 

M breathlessly explained the predicament of his 

friend, but had considerable difficulty in convincing the 
owner that the need was urgent. He must first "bait 

his horse," he argued. But M was insistent and 

had his way. Just as the extemporized ambulance 

'Holmes: One Hoss Shay. 



Sabbaday's Triple Fall 191 
reached the woods, the party appeared. W , 



though chalky-faced, weak from loss of blood, and 
suffering agonies from the tourniquet, was game to 
the core and did not permit a murmur to escape him. 
At the hotel a bed-spring was secured and the wounded 
man was transferred to the mail-wagon. Soon the six- 
teen miles were covered and the party dashed up to 
the Conway Station just in time for the afternoon train. 
That evening found the luckless camper in a Boston 
hospital, his wound properly dressed, his life and 
limb saved. To-day he is as well and sound as ever 
and a stranger never would know how close a call he 
once had. The accident took place thus: The young 
men had been swimming in the pool at the foot of 
Sabbaday Falls, and were putting on their clothes 

again. W wore a 44-caliber Colt revolver in a 

holster of very flexible leather. This holster swung 
against a rock, discharging the weapon. The bullet 
passed through the leg, just missing the bone. Evi- 
dently it hit a large blood-vessel, for he bled "like a 
butcher." 

Usually the pilgrimage to Sabbaday Falls is made 
on the visitor's first Sunday in the intervale. The very 
name suggests such a plan, and moreover the quiet, 
cool stroll makes an ideal "Sabbath Day's journey." 
Perhaps we may see a big buck jump up and bound 
away; or we may find the hen-hawks "at home" on 
their nest. But even if we catch no glimpses of wild 
life, the winding river, the singing brook, the great 
pipe-organ of the falls, the life-giving air and heal- 
ing sunshine will amply reward us for our attendance 



192 Passaconaway 

at the falls church at Church's Falls on the Sabba- 
day. And within the sacred walls of such a sanctuary 
one's mind is filled with thoughts of Him who is Lord 
of the earth and heavens, who gives us mountain, 
brook and blue sky.* 

* Frank Bolles has left us an interesting account of a Christmas 
which he spent at Sabbaday Falls. (Bolles: At the North of Bear- 
camp Water, 273-285.) 



CHAPTER XI 

THE DEER PONDS 

ALMOST beneath the beetling crags of Green's 
Chff, and at the base of the gentle northeastern 
slope of Sugar Hill, lie two little ponds, called the 
Deer Ponds. The larger of these, and the one which 
lies the nearer to the town road, is called Church 
Pond, or Church's Pond, probably in memory of 
Charles Church, a former inhabitant of Albany Inter- 
vale. 

Church Pond is a natural beauty spot. With artisti- 
cally curved outlines, dotted with gray rocks and 
fringed with dark firs, this little sheet of water is a veri- 
table gem set in the dark recesses of the wilderness. 
From a distance this pond, which is enclosed by trees 
on three sides, appears like a blue mirror, sometimes re- 
flecting a fleecy cloud; but only one-half of its beauty 
usually is seen, for one arm is invisible from such a 
vantage-point as Potash or Hedgehog. Running east 
and west. Church's Pond is divided into eastern and 
western sections; the former is much smaller than the 
latter, but contains the outlet, which is Church's or 
Pond Brook; the western section of the pond is wider, 
longer, and deeper, and it is all that is visible from 
the summits lying to the southward. 

Parallel with the eastern arm of the pond, south- 

193 



194 Passaconaway 

east of and opposite the place where the two parts of 
the pond join, there rises a long monadnock. This 
hillock — "The Knoll," we call it — begins to rise grad- 
ually near the outlet of the pond, and, running west- 
ward, gently slopes upward until, just opposite the junc- 
tion of the arms of the pond, it drops off sharply to 
the water on its northern side and western end. This 
knoll, having been burnt over a few years ago, is 
covered with birches, pines, charred and prostrate logs, 
blueberry bushes and rocks. Its extreme western end 
is covered with a fine grove of tall trees. The crest, 
thus shaded by the grove and carpeted with pine 
needles, offers an unexcelled vantage-point. 

South of the knoll and pond there lies a large area 
of burnt-over, marshy land, which bears the appropri- 
ate name of "the bog." This bog is nearly as large 
as the cleared area of our intervale and is so marshy 
that even in the height of drought one is fortunate 
indeed if he traverses it dry-shod. Carpeted with bril- 
liant reddish-brown bushes, dotted and steepled with 
dark shafts of charred and weathered stubs, with here 
and there a considerable cluster of these upright ruins, 
the bog presents a marked contrast to the long sheet 
of water with its symmetrical dark green background. 
The bog is a famous place for pitcher-plants. 

From the knoll not only may a commanding view 
of bog, pond, and surrounding forests be had, but also 
the Sandwich Range looms up steeper and more im- 
posing than from any other viewpoint in the Albany 
Valley. Even little Potash and Hedgehog appear lofty 
and precipitous; Passaconaway and Tripyramid seem 



The Deer Ponds 195 

more gigantic than ever; and Green's Cliff defiantly 
raises its oblong redoubt far above us, and, from 
here, is a mountain worthy of respect and admiration 
— a truly magnificent and imposing rampart. One of 
the chief attractions in the entire valley to me is the 
wilderness solitude and romance of this secluded knoll 
at Church's Pond. 

Centuries ago, probably when the ice melted after 
the last glacial period, the entire valley — the Swift 
River or Albany Intervale — was covered by the rip- 
pling waters of an intermontane lake. This fact is 
proved by the deep deposits of rich loam throughout 
the intervale, and by the absence of stones, so com-, 
mon in most New England fields. As we have already 
said, the innumerable rocks and boulders on Sugar 
Hill prove that this eminence was either an island or 
the termination of the lake, if we may take Frank 
Bolles as an authority.^ After years and probably 
centuries of pounding and drilling, the Swift River 
finally bored and reamed its way through the rocky 
gorge between Bear and Bald Mountains, and thus in 
time drained off most of the water. Still the lake did 
not give up without resistance. Repeatedly it braced 
itself for a struggle and made stand after stand, but 
all in vain. On the hill at Mrs. Colbath's, ridge after 
ridge was formed, showing how resolutely the lake 
postponed Its ultimate defeat. But finally, the last 
barrier gave way. All that remains of the original lake 
is this pair of twin Deer Ponds and the bog. 

The red man was a great lover of beauty; we find 

* Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 280-1. 



196 Passaconaway 

Passaconaway referring to his "beautiful island of 
Naticot." It is a noticeable fact that the Indians lived 
in the most beautiful spots and made their paths along 
the most picturesque routes.- We read in the early 
history of a great abundance of beaver in the Albany 
valley, and it is highly probable that hundreds of these 
industrious little workers lived along these very shores. 
The later records also tell of vast quantities of beaver 
killed in the intervale. Such a country the Indian 
would prize highly. Taking everything into consid- 
eration, therefore, we should not go very far astray 
were we to guess that, centuries before a white man 
ever tickled this pond with a pickerel hook, the In- 
dians were building their fires on the very knoll which 
we love so well. That the Indians used to trap in 
the intervale is proved by the Russell Manuscript, from 
which we shall quote later. 

Not until the lumbermen built a camp on its very 
shores, did we ever fail to see deer whenever we 
visited this pond. Generally we had but to sit quietly 
upon the knoll for a few minutes, when we would be 
rewarded by seeing a deer step gracefully from the 
forest to the water's edge, and then slowly proceed 
into the water. These innocent and beautiful creatures 
always excite my admiration. With their yellowish 
brown and white coats, and standing knee-deep in wa- 
ter, they are prettier than any picture that can be 
painted. While feasting our gaze upon these creatures 
we are lost In admiration, only being brought back to 
earth by the soft splashing or rippling of the water 

^John S. C. Abbott: Life and Adventures of Miles Standish, 133. 



The Deer Ponds 197 

as a buck wades slowly about, or by the whispering 
of a gentle breeze. We have watched the deer scores 
of times, when their proximity made field-glasses un- 
necessary; and so long as nothing startled them, they 
would feed on the lily-roots, for half an hour or more, 
before stalking off into the woods. 

One cloudy afternoon, in July, 19 12, my father and 
I came here planning to try for pickerel; but we did 
not catch any, nor did we even try for them. It was 
our custom to approach cautiously across the bog. 
Thinking that our chances for seeing game were ex- 
ceptionally good on that day, we skirted the southern 
ridge of the knoll until the western end had been 
reached. The semi-darkness of a threatening sky con- 
cealed us perfectly. Straightening up behind some 
bushes near the shore, we saw two groups or families 
of deer standing directly opposite us in the water. One 
family, the nearer to the western end of the pond, con- 
sisted of a doe and a fawn; the second group, of a 
mother and two fawns; making a total of five deer 
seen at once. The cute little speckled fawns ate as 
industriously and seriously as their elders. Every de- 
tail was distinctly visible, even to the tiny spots on the 
youngsters' sides. From one side to the other the nerv- 
ous "white flags" of the mothers perpetually twitched. 
Slowly, and with the dignified tread of a "Scotch High- 
lander," they marched from one lily-pad to another. 
Time was nothing to them, and, no doubt, standing 
there as undisturbed and as independent as one could 
desire, they were enjoying a real "Thanksgiving din- 
ner." For over an hour we watched their graceful 



198 Passaconaway 

movements. Not until wc emptied our revolver into 
a vicious snake, did the deer vanish. 

One hot July 'forenoon, my attention was attracted 
by some enormous birds not far away. On their long 
legs they stood fully four feet high. At first sight I 
thought they must be storks, but they proved to be 
great blue herons. I had seen marsh hens, but these 
birds almost could have swallowed the ones with which 
I had been familiar. All four flew, from their orig- 
inal position near the knoll, directly over our heads and 
off over the bog. They were not fifty feet above us 
when they passed over. They rushed by with a great 
beating of wings, their pipe-stem legs folded against 
their bodies and their feet sticking far out behind. 
The wings of these birds seemed to be as broad as any 
eagle's I had ever seen, and I shall not venture a guess 
at their length. Never had I viewed such winged crea- 
tures; to one accustomed to seeing hen-hawks, mud- 
hens, owls and crows, the appearance of these great 
birds Is not only startling but somewhat awe-inspiring. 
Their grandeur lies in stature and length of limb, 
rather than in fineness of feature, or graceof movement. 

That same afternoon a friend of ours, while cross- 
ing the bog, met an old mother bear coming with her 
two cubs from Green's Cliff. Being unarmed, he 
deemed discretion to be the better part of valor; for 
experience had taught him to give a wide berth to 
Madame Bear, which he promptly proceeded to do. 

Some years ago, our neighbor, S , was rapidly 

crossing the tumbledown between the pond and Green's 
Cliff. One exceptionally large windfall lay right in 



The Deer Ponds 199 

his path. Clearing this at one leap, his foot descended 
on something which yielded somewhat under his weight, 
something surprisingly soft. And no wonder, for it 
was a bear that had been sleeping close to the log. 
The woodsman did not hesitate as to what course to 
pursue. Upon relating his experience he was asked 
what he did next, whereupon he immediately replied, 
"I think I did a mile in two minutes." 

Another friend of ours was fishing in Church's Pond 
about dusk. He was after pickerel and, as the raft 
was unavailable, he was wading about knee-deep in 
water. "Crack, snap!" He looked around, for the 
noise came from the brush near the water's edge. He 
slowly fished down the pond, but the occasional break- 
ing of twigs kept pace with him on the shore. In the 
gathering twilight he was beset with many fancies. 
Once he thought he saw the savage face of a lynx 
peering towards him. And perhaps it was not all im- 
agination either, for, on going ashore and following 
his trail back across the bog, he saw paw-prints deeply 
imprinted in the mud, the prints of a wild-cat, tracks 
larger than a man's clenched fist. Further search re- 
vealed that the cat had tramped up and down the bank, 
probably changing his position as often as the man 
changed his. Evidently the cat coveted the contents 
of a somewhat heavy fish-basket. With darkness 
rapidly closing in and with the knowledge of having 

been tracked, H did not stand upon the order of 

his going, but departed for civilization with all speed. 
Later it was found that all the time he was searching 
for the tracks and even for quite a distance on his way 



200 Passaconaway 

home he was being followed. This was shown by the 
paw-prints in the soft mud which the man discovered 
next day. The lynx, though eager for the fish, evi- 
dently lacked the nerve to attack the fisherman. 

One of our former neighbors, X , was return- 
ing, I think from the pond, on the other side of the 
river, when he felt that something was following him. 
The farther he went the stronger this feeling became. 
At last he was sure he heard a twig snap behind him. 
At least he would satisfy his curiosity; so he concealed 
himself behind a big tree a few rods from and com- 
manding the path. Nor had he long to wait, for within 
a few seconds afterwards a Canadian lynx, with nose 
sniffing the air, came trotting down the path. Draw- 
ing bead carefully, X fired. The cat sprang into 

the air and, with a frantic kick or two, expired — shot 
through the heart. Mr. Povall had the trophy stuffed 
and it was on exhibition at the Passaconaway House 
until February 13, 19 16, when the hotel burned. It 
is now in the present writer's possession. 

Scores of these little anecdotes might be narrated — 
of deer shot on the ice, of a silver fox seen here, of the 
moose which treed some boys on the knoll (narrated in 
the chapter on Albany in this work) and of the bears 
shot or trapped here at Church's Pond, but space does 
not permit. Suffice it to say that, within a year or two, 
now, as soon as the lumber fiends shall have left, its 
wild and lawful tenants will return, and then new 
experiences will thrill the visitor. 

The second Deer Pond is even more secluded 
than is Church Pond. A sense of utter loneliness and 



The Deer Ponds 201 

desolation sweeps over one as he gazes upon this tiny 
sheet of water so completely buried in the great wil- 
derness. Consequently it offers a paradise to wood 
folk and is a popular summer and winter resort among 
the beasts of the forest. 

One need not take the trouble to press his way 
through to the second Deer Pond in order to see game. 
You can see it at Church's Pond. But remember one 
thing, you can't see game if you telegraph to it the 
fact of your approach when you are a half mile away. 
Once we were watching a beautiful buck feeding near 
the base of the knoll, when a sudden peal of laughter 
at the western end of the pond startled us. As quick 
as thought, Mr. Deer bounded away among the trees, 
and almost before we knew it he was gone. Shortly 
after, a party of hotel guests appeared on the shore 
and their dog took up the fresh scent of the buck, but 
soon returned unsuccessful. Upon joining our party 
they said they had seen no deer and not in all their 
trips here had they ever seen any. In my opinion their 
only chance to see deer is that the deer may become 
stone-deaf from the fall shooting. So, when going to a 
quiet secluded spot like this, don't go like a human 
megaphone, but as a listener and spectator. Those 
who keep silent, move quietly and look, are seldom 
disappointed. Remember the sage observation of the 
old stage-driver who said: "Pve driven hundreds of 
people over this very road, and most of them hear 
nothin', see nothin', and just talk on and on about 
nothin'." 



CHAPTER XII 

THE OLD MAST ROAD 

THERE is an old, well-traveled road, though now 
in many places blotted out by lumbermen's debris, 
which runs south from our valley, leaving the town 
road almost opposite the Passaconaway House. This 
old road runs past the foot of Square Ledge, through 
the Paugus-Passaconaway Notch to Wonalancet. This 
ancient road has long been known as the "Old Mast 
Road." Along this very road trees — gigantic pines 
and spruces — bearing the royal "broad arrow," were 
hauled from the slopes of Chocorua, Paugus and Pas- 
saconaway to the level country south of us.^ As the 
mast industry, called by many the most important and 
most picturesque enterprise before the Revolution,^ 
formed an important part of the early history of these 
frontier towns, let us take a nearer view of the mast- 
trade. 

No one can understand the colonial history of New 
Hampshire who is not familiar with this great enter- 
prise in which public administration and private busi- 
ness joined. The Spaniards had sought this continent 
impelled by lust for gold, but in only a few cases were 

* Compare Bolles: At the North of Bearcarnp Water, 44. 
'Weeden: Econ. and Social Hist, of New Eng., vol. I, 356. 

202 



The Old Mast Road 203 

they rewarded. The hardy British settlers, however, 
coined gold in the New World by an entirely different 
process. They found that the colonies could furnish 
spars and masts and even ships — "the best in the 
world" ^ — and by means of these stout, swift-sailing 
ships the gold of the Spaniard could easily be captured. 

It is said that one, and probably the only, great 
thing the English king did was to place the "mast- 
trade" upon a broad and firm foundation. The gov- 
ernment created a fleet whose sails whitened every nook 
and corner of the globe, a fleet which conquered the 
Dutch, outstripped the French, and which has com- 
manded the seas ever since the establishment of the 
mast trade in our New England colonies. Industrious, 
skilful and energetic men came to this country to help 
promote this trade. Not only did New England sup- 
ply the immense Royal Navy with masts, spars, and 
bowsprits, but the merchant marine was fitted out here 
also. We find that, in the later development of the 
trade, ships were built right on the New England 
shores for the express purpose of transporting the 
huge sticks "* hewn from the virgin forests. 

We find the Provincial Government of Massachu- 
setts, in 1668, reserving for the express use of the 
Royal Navy all white pines which, one yard from the 
ground, measured two feet in diameter. King Wil- 
liam also caused acts to be passed to this effect, and 
about this time appointed a surveyor, who was to 
mark every tree suitable for a mast with the "Broad 

' Weeden, vol. I, 243. 
* The same. 



204 Passaconaway 

Arrow of the Crown."'' In 1708, the Government 
of New Hampshire passed a similar law, and we find 
a heavy fine imposed for violation. Such legislation 
was odious to the hard-working settlers, and we have 
reason to suspect that on more than one occasion a 
noble mast was cut into kindling wood.^ 

The agents and contractors who carried on the great 
traffic amassed huge fortunes, but not so with the men 
who wielded the ax or the ox-goad.'^ The felling of 
one mast would require scores of men, and thousands 
were employed by the agents; but because there was 
almost no business in the summer time, because the 
workers were supplied with the bare necessities of life 
and very poorly paid, the laborers were always antici- 
pating their wages, and, as they themselves phrased it, 
"working for a dead horse." Thus they were kept 
in a poverty-stricken and dependent state.^ By such 
a system contractors heaped up enormous fortunes. 

No matter how rigidly the mast laws were enforced, 
the experienced woodsmen could, with little diffi- 
culty, avoid the penalty although they broke the 
laws. It does seem as though in some cases they 
cut down the "favorites of nature" ^ just out of spite. 
Then, too, because of the great number of these forest 
monarchs, many a mast tree must necessarily rot in 
the woods before the contractors could reach it. Yet, 

"Belknap: Hist, of New Hampshire, vol. II, 23-4. 

* Same. 

'Belknap: Hist, of N. H., vol. Ill, 150. 

* Same. 

° Weeden : Econ. and Social Hist, of New England, vol. II, 783. 



The Old Mast Road 205 

If it bore the "broad arrow," it must not be touched. 
Many, too, after being felled, were found to be un- 
sound and were left to decay. All these facts seem 
to have been obnoxious to our hardy and thrifty New 
Hampshire settlers, and they fretted and chafed under 
the law.^*^ Conflicts between surveyor and squatter ^^ 
were bound to come out of such a state of affairs. At 
Exeter, the surveyor having arrived to seize some 
logs suitable for masts, was set upon by a party dis- 
guised as Indians and warmly flogged.^" 

In the legislation of the time all white pines were 
accounted as the property of the King, but provision 
was made whereby all towns granted before Septem- 
ber 21, 1722, should be exempted from this restric- 
tion.^^ Naturally disputes arose as to the boundaries 
of different towns and also a dispute between Massa- 
chusetts and New Hampshire. This latter dispute, 
contrary to the terms of the charters, was decided by 
the King himself. He generously gave the decision in 
favor of the Granite State, ^^ as might naturally have 
been expected, since his economic interest was at stake. 
It is a fact that by this "just and non-partisan" deci- 
sion, the best mast trees in the world were assigned 
to New Hampshire, which was subject to the mast-tree 
law. Had the "Impartial" decision been rendered in 
favor of Massachusetts, these beautiful trees would 

^"Weeden: Econ. and Social Hist, of New England, vol. II, 783. 

"Coman: Industrial Hist, of U. S., 105. 

"Fox and Osgood: The New Hampshire Book, 249. 

"Belknap: Hist, of New Hampshire, vol. Ill, 81. 

"Fox and Osgood: The New Hampshire Book, 249. 



2o6 Passaconaway 

have been the property of the different townships. 

Let us now see how one of these long, straight trees 
was felled. A mast tree would have no limbs within 
eighty or more feet of the ground and would be in 
danger of splitting when it fell. Therefore, a bed 
or cradle was carefully prepared to receive it. The 
snow helped also, being so deep in winter that it not 
only covered all the rocks and boulders, but presented 
a soft bed for the tree to fall upon. Hence most of 
the masts were cut and sledded out in winter. But 
in other seasons, when the ground was bare and stony, 
the lumbermen would cut down scores of small trees, 
and so pile them that, when the giant mast crashed 
down, it would nestle among the upright branches of 
the smaller trees. Thus the great tree was safely 
brought to earth. The prostrate log was then cut 
off in the proportion of a yard in length for every 
inch of diameter. Since each mast was at least twenty- 
four inches in diameter, it must be at least twenty-four 
yards, or seventy-two feet, long. If the slightest de- 
fect was found, the log might be cut shorter for yards 
or bow-sprits. If it proved to be unsound, it was either 
left or sawed up into logs.^^ 

The transportation of these logs was a Herculean 
task for the engineers of those days. All the men for 
miles around were summoned and great crowds gath- 
ered to see the feat. The mast was rigged upon two 
pairs of wheels; sixteen and sometimes even forty yoke 
of oxen were chained in front; on each side, between 
the fore and hind wheels, two additional yoke tugged 

"■Belknap: Hist, of New Hampshire, vol. Ill, 78. 



The Old Mast Road 207 

and strained. In this fashion the forty (or eighty- 
eight) animals, under the guidance of noted drivers, 
pulled and strained as one machine, the huge mast was 
put in motion and was slowly but surely dragged to 
the coast. Most of our New Hampshire masts were 
shipped from Portsmouth, which was the center of 
this romantic trade. ^^ 

Concerning the value of these huge sticks, consid- 
ered by Europeans to be "the best in the world," we 
find that some New England masts, in 1644, were 
sold to the Royal Navy for from ninety-five to one 
hundred and fifteen pounds per mast. These masts 
measured from thirty-three to thirty-five inches in 
diameter at the butt. A premium of one pound per 
ton was usually paid on masts by the Royal Navy.^^ 

So extensive was this trade that an entire fleet was 
constructed in the Colonies for the purpose of carry- 
ing the great sticks to England. These ships carried 
about a half hundred masts each, and were manned 
by crews averaging twenty-five men. The mast-ships 
plowed the seas until the breaking out of the Revo- 
lution in 1775.^* 

When, in 1727, Colonel Westbrook, then the royal 
agent, transferred the center of this trade from Ports- 
mouth to Falmouth (now Portland), Maine, he ef- 
fected a marked change in the industry.^" Although 

"Weeden: vol. I, 356-7. 

"Weeden: vol. I, 243, vol. II, 578. Comp. also Belknap: N. H., 
vol. Ill, 80, note. 

"Weeden: vol. II, 578. 
" Same. 



2o8 Passaconaway 

Falmouth's commercial importance was thus suddenly 
increased, Portsmouth's prosperity was struck an al- 
most fatal blow. However, from the new center, the 
trade lasted less than a half century. The Revolution 
completely stamped out this greatest of all colonial 
activities.-" Since the United States became a nation 
these trees, like all others, have become the property 
of private landowners. Although the mast trade had 
grown up with miraculous rapidity, yet, once destroyed, 
it has never been revived. 

Nathaniel Berry, of Birch Intervale, tells of masts 
and spars being hauled out from the southern slopes 
of the Sandwich Range. -^ The older settlers of our 
Albany Intervale recall hearing their ancestors tell of 
the days when the King's Broad Arrow was blazed 
upon the big trees in this region. I have no proof that 
masts for the Royal Navy ever were hauled out over 
our end of the Old Mast Road, though probably they 
were dragged down the southern sides of the same 
hills. The town road was not built in the Albany 
Intervale until long after the Revolution. Unless the 
logs were run down the Swift River on the spring 
freshets, there would seem to have been no way of 
getting them out of our valley in colonial days. But 
we do know of huge masts being cut here in later times. 
Mr. Shackford used to tell us about a mast no feet 
long, and 2 feet in diameter at the small end, which 
was hauled out of our valley in his day. And we 

'"Weeden: Econ. and Social Hist, of New England, vol. I. 243. 
"Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 44. 



The Old Mast Road 209 

have other reliable testimony to mast cutting in our 
quiet intervale. 

With the "Old Mast Road" beginning, or com- 
ing to an end, on the lot of land on which our little 
cottage now stands, we shall not soon allow to slip 
from memory the famous and once all-important 
"mast trade." The "Old Mast Road" more than 
once has been choked with the debris of ax and hur- 
ricane and fire. The Wonalancet Out-Door Club has 
done not a little to keep the trail open. Although 
just now the historic old path here and there loses 
itself in brushwood left by the lumbermen, it is only 
a question of time when "an highway shall be there, 
and a way" -^ perhaps for the untiring "benzine 
buggy" of the summer tourist. 

^Isaiah 35:8. 



CHAPTER XIII 

ALBANY (pASSACONAWAY) INTERVALE, PAST AND 

PRESENT 

ON November 6, 1766, through the efforts of 
Governor Benning Wentworth, a charter was 
obtained from the Crown for the laying out of a 
township in the bleak, yet beautiful. Swift River Val- 
ley and the lands south and east of it.^ The grantees 
were Clement March, Joseph Senter and fifty-nine 
others.^ This charter from George III stipulated that 
not only should a lot of several hundred acres be 
reserved for the governor, known as the Governor's 
Right, a lot for church and school privileges, but that 
also no large pines should be cut if marked with the 
broad arrow. As a tax, each grantee was to give the 
king one ear of corn a year.^ However, this last con- 
dition never applied to the Swift River Intervale; for, 
at the time the charter was granted, only wild beasts 
and Indians inhabited the valley, and white men prob- 
ably never harvested an ear of corn here until after 
American Independence was declared.* Sometimes a 
white man would extend his hunting-trip and go far 

'Belknap: Hist, of N. H., vol. Ill, 241. 
^See list in Merrill: Hist, of Carroll Co., 782. 
'Russell and Colbath MS. 
* Sime. 

210 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 211 

up into the wilderness in the "Great Valley," where 
otter, beaver, and other valuable fur-bearing animals 
were plentiful,^ and in this manner what is now the 
beautiful Passaconaway Intervale came to be known, 
and ultimately was opened up and settled.*^ 

Near the northeast base of Chocorua a settlement 
very early began to be made, which later was called 
Burton. It was while this little cluster of cabins was 
springing up that the death of Chocorua at the hands 
of Cornelius Campbell (who lived within the limits 
of what later was the town of Burton) took place/ 
According to the well-known tradition, the chieftain, 
just before his death, cursed the whites, praying that 
their crops might be blasted and that disease might 
waste their people and cattle. The cattle did indeed 
sicken and die, it being impossible to raise a calf.^ And 
even robust men seemed to waste away. There was 
something wrong, something that could not be ac- 
counted for. Quickly the superstitious fear that the 
Indian's curse was in effect crept over the minds of 
these hardy frontiersmen. With such a handicap Bur- 
ton did not grow as fast as the surrounding towns.^ 

The proprietors perceived the need of surveying and 
establishing well-defined boundaries. This project 

'Willey: Incidents in White Mt. Hist., 277; Merrill: Hist, of Carroll 
Co., 783; Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 89. 

"Russell and Colbath MS. 

' Coolidge and Mansfield: History and Description of New England, 
New Hampshire vol., 406, note. 

' Coolidge and Mansfield: Hist, and Description of New Eng., New 
Hampshire vol., 285. 

"The same and Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 89. 



212 Passaconaway 

was approved, and so carefully was the work done that 
the town was forced to surrender to an adjoining town 
several acres which clearly did not belong to Burton. 
Yet the surveyors succeeded in annexing to Burton a 
large amount of ungranted lands which more than 
compensated for the loss of a few acres. The divi- 
sion of the land into lots was the next step. At length, 
after many difficulties, it was voted at a proprietors' 
meeting that, after marking off the Governor's Right 
lot, the Minister lot, and a lot for school privileges, 
the right should be given to every settler to pitch and 
stake off his own bounds. In 1798 a lot of ten thou- 
sand acres was sold. The settlers finished their task 
of parceling out the land in 1804. One man was ap- 
pointed by the proprietors to make a plan or map 
of the township, with numbers of lots and names of 
owners, and this was done. This map has been the 
foundation of all later plans down to the present.^^ 

According to the terms of the original grant, the 
boundaries of the new town were as follows: — "Be- 
ginning at the middle of the west side line of Con- 
way and from thence to run west until the line so 
run west shall intersect a line run north from the 
northeasterly corner of an additional grant to the 
township of Sandwich, thence by sd last mentioned 
line to the addition of Sandwich afores'd and thence 
on to Tamworth, thence easterly by Tamworth to the 
northeast corner thereof, thence a strait line by the 
township of Eaton to the northwesterly corner of a 
tract of land granted to officers late in His Majesty's 

"'Russell and Colbath MS. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 213 

service, thence by said officers' lands to the southwest- 
erly corner of Conway to the bounds first men- 
tioned." " The present town of Albany (originally 
Burton) is bounded thus: On the north, by Livermore, 
Bartlett and Hale's Location; on the east, by Conway 
and Madison; on the south, by Madison and Tarn- 
worth; on the west, by Sandwich, Waterville and Liver- 
more.^^ Its area is 36,700 acres. ^^ 

None but hardy laborers would brave the difficul- 
ties of settling in such a desolate and distant place, 
in the very heart of a vast wilderness. Let me nar- 
rate an instance, recorded in an old manuscript, which 
shows the patience, perseverance, ingenuity and endur- 
ing courage of these settlers. A farmer, having 
cleared a lot and built a house, brought his family to 
Burton, and then prepared his field for planting. But 
he had no seed. So he saddled his horse (the only 
means of conveyance, there being no wagon-roads) and 
canvassed the houses of the adjoining towns in the 
hope of buying a bushel of seedling potatoes. Not a 
bushel was for sale, however, so he returned home, but 
determined to try again. Next morning, throwing his 
saddle-bags upon his horse, he went again from house 
to house begging a single potato from each. Those 
who would not sell a bushel were willing to give one 
potato and, in some cases, more. For three days he 
kept up these tactics, riding home at dusk each night, 
until he was supplied. This man remained in Burton 

"Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 782. 
" See U. S. maps. 
"Merrill, 782. 



2 14 Passaconaway 

and brought up a large family of children, all of whom 
are prosperous and respectable.^^ 

Of course the distance from seaport towns made it 
very difficult to secure certain necessary articles which 
could not be found in the field or forest, such as iron, 
salt and lead. These all had to be brought by man 
or horse, A man would carry a bushel of corn on 
his shoulder ten miles to the mill and carry back the 
meal the same way, considering himself fortunate to 
be able to secure meal on any terms. Many and many 
a time the community was forced to send deputations 
as far as sixty miles to buy grain. Once, when a scarc- 
ity of salt was producing sickness, a certain man went 
eighty miles on foot, bought a bushel of that com- 
modity, and returned with it on his shoulder.^"' Just 
as these energetic frontiersmen, by their unremitting 
toil, seemed to be accumulating and getting ahead a 
little, bears, wolves, and other wild animals would 
steal their pigs or calves and do other damage. "Meal 
and water and dried fish without salt was often their 
diet for days when game was shy or storms prevented 
hunting." ^^ 

A century ago, wages were extremely low. Meas- 
ured by modern charges they seem absurdly small. I 
think that we shall the better appreciate the indus- 
try of the hard-working settlers of this time if their 
incomes arc recorded. "Women's labor was fifty cents 
per week. They spun and wove most of the cloth that 

" R. and C. MS. 

" Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 53. 

" The same. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 215 

was worn. Flannel that was dressed at the mill, for 
women's wear, was fifty cents a yard; men's wear, one 
dollar. Farmers hired their help for nine or ten dol- 
lars a month — some clothing and the rest cash. Car- 
penters' wages one dollar a day; journeymen carpen- 
ters, fifteen dollars a month; and apprentices to serve 
six or seven years had ten dollars the first year, twenty 
the second, and so on until the seventh, receiving sev- 
enty dollars, and to clothe themselves." ^'^ 

But who were some of these pioneers? According 
to the proprietors' records, which commence in 1780, 
the first "pitches" were made by Henry Weed for 
Joshua Weed, Isaac George, Orlando Weed, Ezekiel 
Oilman, William Page, and Aaron Beede; all in the 
southern part of the town.^® 

Colonel Jeremiah Oilman, commander of the sec- 
ond regiment raised in the Oranite State for the Revo- 
lution, settled here in 1780. A fine specimen of in- 
dustry and perseverance was the Colonel. He built 
the first "power" spinning-mill in the United States. 
At the time of his invention the Saco Valley was pro- 
ducing large quantities of flax which was spun and 
woven in the individual homes, the finished cloth be- 
ing borne on horseback to Dover, Portsmouth, or Port- 
land, where it was bartered for flour, rum, etc.^^ 

Orlando Weed was another sterling and energetic 
settler in the lower part of the town. Discovering iron 
ore, he immediately erected a rude smithy, where he 

"Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 52. 
" The same, 783. 
" The same, 784. 



2i6 Passaconaway 

forged first his own tools and an anvil. He made 
a coarse steel for trap springs. Later he forged an- 
chors, large and small; and upon a rigging of his 
own contrivance, consisting of two poles, he dragged 
his anchors to Portsmouth where he sold them. Be- 
sides being a very hard-working man, he was gener- 
ous and public-spirited. In 1796, he represented 
Eaton, Tamworth, and Burton at Concord.^*^ 

In 1785 a petition was sent to the legislature pray- 
ing for authority to call the first legal town meeting. 
Four years later, the following petition for the ap- 
pointment of a Justice of the Peace was submitted: 
"Burton April 1789, recommending Benjamin Weeks 
for justice of the peace for the town. Orlando Weed, 
Benjamin Meed, Levi Rundlet, Orlando Weed, Jr., 
Daniel Head, Ambros Hinds, Nathaniel Head, Na- 
thaniel Hayford, Elisher Weed, Ezekiel Gilman, The- 
ophelus Brown, Caleb Brown, Isaac George, Jeremiah 
Gilman, Joseph Crosbe." ^^ 

The disease from which Burton cattle suffered and 
which was laid to Chocorua's curse, proved to be 
not imaginary but real. So serious was it that, in 1821, 
Professor Dana, of Dartmouth College, was sent by 
the state to the afflicted town to find out if possible the 
nature of "the Burton Ail." -- He found the cause to 
lie in the water, which contained a weak solution of 
muriate of lime. A remedy was discovered near at 

** Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 52. 
^ The same. 

^^ Coolidge and Mansfield: Hist, and Description of New England, 
New Hampshire vol., 285; R. and C. MS. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 217 

hand, however. It was found that a certain kind of 
meadow mud, when administered in large pills to the 
cattle, counteracted the disease. Soap-suds acted simi- 
larly.^^ The town had gained an evil reputation on 
account of "the Burton Ail," but with the discovery 
of a remedy, its population and business were stimu- 
lated somewhat.^* 

In the earlier days of the town, warrants were sent 
out for "May training," according to that ancient New 
England custom. All the men of military age were 
assembled and officers chosen. On one occasion, when 
the men proceeded to form company, it was found that 
there was only one man, Farnham by name, who 
ranked as private, all the rest having been chosen offi- 
cers. "Looking wistfully upon his superiors, standing 
in terrible array before him, he said, 'Gentlemen, I 
have only one request to make; that is, as I am the 
only soldier, I hope your honors will not be too severe 
in drilling me, but spare me a little as I may be needed 
another time.' He could form a solid column, he said, 
'but it racked him shockingly to display.' " ^-^ 

This "May training" affair recalls an unhappy inci- 
dent. A young Mr. Allard lost a hand by the bursting 
of a gun at one of these musters."*' He was a genuine 
pioneer and fearless hunter. In his old age he used 
to delight the younger generation with his quaint 

^Willey: Incidents in White Mt. Hist. 276. 

** Coolidge and Mansfield: Hist, and Description of New England, 
New Hampshire vol., 285. 

^'Willey: Incidents in White Mt. History, 277-8. 
'"R. and C. MS. 



2i8 Passaconaway 

stories of exciting experiences. Upon the authority 
of a veracious old settler of Burton, who used to sit 
for hours and listen to his droll stories, I will relate 
this one, told in the old man's own words: "When I 
was about seventeen years old, brother Jim" (his twin 
brother) "and I set a trap to catch a bear. We went 
early one morning and there was a big black bear in 
the trap. Fearing he would get away I grabbed him 
and told Jim to run back to the house for an ax to 
kill him with. When he got there breakfast was all 
ready, so he stopped and ate breakfast. When he 
came back I said, 'Well, well,' " (an expression often 
used by the early settlers) " 'now you hold him and let 
me kill him.' So Jim took a firm grip on the bear that 
he might be sure and hold him. 'Well, well, now I will 
go and eat my breakfast!' So when I came back we 
killed the bear." ^' 

Another member of this same family, and equally 
interesting, was Stephen AUard, known as "Old Uncle 
Steve Allard." "Steve" was an early pioneer here, 
and resided in Albany until his death, September 4, 
1869, at ninety-nine years of age. "He was a kind, 
peaceful citizen, and waged war only against wild 
beasts that infested the neighborhood, and being an 
athletic man, he usually came out victorious. Mr. 
Allard could entertain one for hours with stories. 
He was a man of iron constitution, and, when about 
ninety-five years old, slipped away from his family 
and walked six miles, over poorly kept roads, with 
snow three feet deep, to see an old gentleman, an 

-' R. and C. MS. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 219 

early settler of Conway." ^^ 

One intensely dark night "Steve" AUard was as- 
cending a small hill, which is about two miles from 
Conway, on the Eaton road, and which rises abruptly 
from a pond. With bowed head he was toiling up 
the incline, when suddenly he was none too gently em- 
braced by a big black bear which, standing upon its 
haunches, with outstretched forelegs, had lovingly re- 
ceived the man into his clasp. Instinctively Steve knew 
what kind of an antagonist he was grappling with, and, 
putting forth almost superhuman strength, wrestled 
with "the bear that walks like a man." "^^ The brute 
hugged and tugged, the man pushed and wriggled. At 
length he tripped up the bear and threw him. Down 
went bear and man together. Over and over they 
rolled; first the bear was underneath and then the man. 
Clutching each other like long-lost friends they rolled 
down the hill and — "Splash!" — they plunged into the 
pond. This seemed to dampen the spirits of the ursine 
wrestler, for he relaxed his hold, crawled out of the 
pond, and, having no inclination to renew the encounter, 
without even a last look at his foe made off through 
the woods. ^*^ 

With this brief history of the lower part of the town, 
now known as South Albany, let us now consider those 
adventurous pioneers who went eight or ten miles 
farther into the wilderness to settle the "Great Val- 

^' Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 784. 
^Kipling: The Truce of the Bear. 

"Willey: Incidents in White Mt. History, 181-2; see Allard's Hill 
in Osgood: White Mts., 93. 



2 20 Passaconaway 

ley." Some time in the eighteenth century two men, 
from Conway, traveling westward, followed up a swift- 
running stream, as they described it. Having gone a 
dozen miles, they came into a wide and beautiful val- 
ley which they called the "Great Valley" — now the 
Passaconaway Intervale. ^^ Being on friendly terms 
with the Indians, one of these hunters, having set a trap 
for a wolf, was sorry to find in the trap one morning 
what he thought was an Indian's dog. Upon releas- 
ing the animal, however, he saw that it was a real wolf 
which he had liberated.^- By hunters this valley came 
to be looked upon as a paradise."^ The Indians fre- 
quented and even lived in it, in spite of their fear of 
the mountains. Beaver were abundant, and long after 
the valley had become permanently settled and the In- 
dians had disappeared, trappers would come up from 
Conway to catch these valuable little creatures.''^ 

In time it was proposed to run a road through to 
the settlement now known as Waterville. This was 
approved by the proprietors, and laborers were set 
to work cutting trees and leaving landmarks. One 
Saturday night, tired and discouraged, they reached 
a spot near a brook. With a cold winter fast ap- 
proaching, these workmen, far from their farms, next 
morning concluded to hide their tools and return home. 
It was their intention to resume the work next year. 
Before leaving, they named this brook the "Sabbaday 

"Ru88e!l and Colbath MS. 

*" Same. 

*^Willey: Incidents in White Mt. History, 277. 

" R. and C. MS. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 221 

Brook," because it was on the Sabbath Day, or "Sab- 
baday" as the old-timers called it, that they ceased 
their labors and returned to their homes. But the 
tools rotted and rusted, for neither these workmen nor 
others, thus far, ev^er have completed a highway from 
Albany Intervale to Waterville.^^ 

The proprietors of the town of Burton, in 1790, 
voted a lot of land, with mill privileges, to any man 
who would build a saw-mill in this intervale. At 
length a Mr. Weed came in from South Burton and 
erected a mill. After a few boards had been sawed, 
however. Weed tired of the occupation, and, leaving 
the mill to rot down, he left the valley. Some other 
settlers came in about this time — perhaps to help build 
the mill — settling in three or four places, but their cour- 
age was short-lived, for they soon quit.^^ 

Shortly after 1790, two Weeks brothers "pitched" 
north of the river, clearing land on Lots 8 and 9, 
Range 4 (on the survey made after their departure), 
the present Annis Farm. Also the Knox brothers set- 
tled on what later became the Burbank and Shackford 
farms; and another "pitch" was made on Lots 11 and 
12, Range 4, which was taken up and left for others. ^''^ 

November 27, 1800, Burton was taken from Graf- 
ton County and annexed to Carroll County.^^ 

During the year 1800, Austin George, with a large 
family (fourteen children) drove up from Conway and 

'"R. and C. MS. 

'"The same. 

" The same. 

'* Rollins: Tourists' Guide to New Hampshire, 99. 



222 Passaconaway 

built a large barn, of hewed and split white pine from 
top to bottom. No labor was wasted, for the timber 
grew upon the very ground which the settler wished 
to clear. The men chose rift trees, split the boards, 
shingles and planks and smoothed them with an adze. 
A log-house was built and finished in the same way. 
One or two neighbors came with this family, but made 
no preparations for permanent settlement, and, after 
two or three years, went back to Conway. Mr. 
George's oldest son brought his bride from Conway to 
live with the family.^^ Doubtless owing to the hard- 
ship of pioneer life, sickness came to the family. A 
daughter, nineteen years of age, died of consumption. 
The nearest neighbors were ten miles way. The poor 
mother was forced to make all the funeral prepara- 
tions with her own hands. Friends arrived later and 
the customary burial rites were observed. The father, 
Austin George, was a scholar and a great reader. He 
taught his children geography, grammar, arithmetic 
and history, and in later years some of these frontier 
children became among the best school teachers in the 
country.*^ 

So cold was the climate that corn and wheat were 
out of the question; in fact, the only vegetables they 
could raise were those which frost could not kill, such 
as cabbages, turnips, onions, and potatoes. Although 
the soil is unusually fertile and free from stones, so 
very short is the season between frosts (for ice often 
forms here in July and August) that only the fast- 

^R. and C. MS. 

** The same. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 223 

growing vegetables and those that can survive the 
frosts can be relied upon. The girls and boys reaped 
abundant crops of hay, while the father cultivated the 
garden. The mother, by hand, wove the clothes for 
the numerous members. The entire family had to turn 
to and toil from daylight to dark in order to eke out 
their meagre existence. There were no drones in 
these early families. ^^ 

Times grew harder and harder in the George home. 
The cattle died of the "Burton ail," no remedy at this 
time being known. A hurricane swept through the very 
center of the valley, tearing up trees by the roots. 
Everything in its path, which was a half mile in width, 
was laid level with the ground. The hurricane crossed 
the valley from northwest to southeast. In 18 14, the 
family decided to abandon the place. Two sons had 
left and enlisted in the war against England, one of 
whom was killed at the Battle of Bridgewater in July, 
1814.^- In October of the same year, the oldest son 
moved his family away. The now aged father decided 
to stay long enough to feed his stock the supply of 
hay on hand, while his family lived on the produce they 
had raised, as it was impossible to move these sup- 
plies through the forest and Mr. George had nothing 
with which to buy more. Until March, 1815, he re- 
mained, when, taking his family, which now consisted 
of a wife, three sons and three daughters, he moved 
to Bartlett. Mr. George felt very sad over abandon- 
ing his home in the intervale, and, although he lived 

"R. and C. MS. 
** The same. 



2 24 Passaconaway 

twenty-four years longer, he never could bring him- 
self to visit the spot again and see the abandoned home. 
Thus Mr. George derived no benefit from the years 
of toil and hardship which he had put in here.^'^ For 
ten years the old George homestead was left to tran- 
sient hunters, trappers and perhaps bandits. Yet its 
occupancy by the Georges had proved that, despite 
Chocorua's curse and the rigorous climate, human be- 
ings could exist here. 

In March, 1824, nine years after Mr. George had 
left, Mr. Amzi Russell, who had married the grand- 
daughter of Austin George, moved into the old house, 
and the settlement was begun in earnest; and never 
afterwards, up to the present, although time and again 
sorely tested, has it been entirely abandoned. The 
building was in a very dilapidated condition, having 
been used by rough men from time to time. The beau- 
tiful white-pine finishing had been ripped off by these 
vandals, who used the wood as fuel with which to 
cook their venison and keep themselves warm. The 
Russells had every reason to believe that the house had 
been used as a meeting-place by men who came from 
different parts of the country and who seemed well 
acquainted with the place. Evidently it had been a 
rendezvous for brigands who met here by agreement 
to divide their plunder or bury their treasure. A horse 
was discovered in the month of March by some of 
the Russells who were hunting. The family worked 
industriously on their farm and existed on what 
"garden truck" they could raise, which fare was sup- 

** Russell and Colbath MS. 



m'^ "-f 




^ I 

o 
5 S 



o 
tq E 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 225 

plemented by a plentiful supply of game. In 1833 the 
Russell brothers built a mill at the lower end of the 
intervale. Here they sawed lumber for the valley 
and made trips to Portland to haul lumber to mar- 
ket. At Portland they could procure supplies for their 
families. On these trips they would also bring back 
goods for the traders at Conway, and this helped to 
pay expenses. They managed to subsist by such ac- 
tivities and by farming. Happily and contentedly they 
lived, and made what improvements they could in addi- 
tion to their regular tasks. ^"* 

Austin George had fourteen children, the first three 
of whom are buried in the Russell Cemetery in the 
Albany Intervale. Daniel George, a son of the pio- 
neer, had a daughter, Eliza Morse George, who mar- 
ried Amzi Russell, son of Thomas Russell. Mrs. Rus- 
sell lived to be over ninety years old. She kept a manu- 
script from which were taken not a few of the facts 
here recorded. The children of Amzi and Eliza Morse 
(George) Russell were Martha George Russell, who 
married Celon Russell Swett; Thirza Russell, who mar- 
ried Andrew J. Lord; Mary Russell, who died young; 
Ruth Priscilla Russell, who married Thomas Alden 
Colbath and lives in the historic old George homestead, 
and who for many years was Postmistress; and Flora 
Emma Russell, who never married. To Mrs. Col- 
bath the present writer is deeply indebted for access 
to the Russell Manuscript and for letters supplement- 
ing the account given in said manuscript. Mrs. Col- 
bath, as her acquaintances can testify, is a woman of 

'* Russell and Colbath MS. 



226 Passaconaway 

superior Intellectual ability and moral excellence, and 
scores of people, In many states, take pride In calling 
her their friend. 

The reason for writing so particularly about the 
George family Is that not only have very reliable rec- 
ords been kept of the hardships endured, which hard- 
ships were typical of those necessarily endured by all 
the early families, but because Mr, George's long stay 
laid the foundation for a permanent settlement in the 
Albany Intervale. 

Meanwhile, a Mr. Stinson went up the river Into 
the township of Waterville, where at considerable ex- 
pense he began to erect a large saw-mill. After ex- 
pending much money and labor on the mill, which was 
approaching completion, he left laborers to continue 
the work, went to Boston, and died. The laborers 
faithfully completed the mill, put It In running order, 
and proceeded to defray the expenses incurred by put- 
ting it up for sale. It was sold at a great sacrifice 
shortly after, two brothers by the name of Morse 
being the purchasers.*^ 

The Morse brothers sledded pine logs to the mill 
during the winter; In the spring they sawed these logs 
and stuck them up on end to dry; the following win- 
ter, as soon as a good snow fell, they hauled their 
lumber to market. For years the work was carried 
on In this slow. Inconvenient way, until at length a road 
was constructed suitable for wheeled vehicles. Such 
primitive methods reveal the difficulty of earning a liv- 
ing In those days. All the lumber, except perhaps a 

*° Russell and Colbath MS. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 227 

few boards used in the neighborhood, had to be drawn 
to Portland. Until the lumber could be sold in Port- 
land, the settlers were obliged to depend upon their 
meagre garden for supplies.^*' But the farm offered 
only a precarious existence. Mr. George and his in- 
dustrious family had done all in their power, but the 
valley could not produce a living for them. So the 
Morse brothers, hard-working and determined men, 
besides caring for their garden, toiled and toiled at 
their lumber business, thereby making up for the mea- 
greness of their crops. 

At daylight these conscientious workers would go 
into the woods and not return until dark. Meanwhile, 
all day long, their families cultivated the garden. On 
returning at night, the brothers would feed their ani- 
mals and, supper eaten, they would bring their shaving- 
horse into the kitchen and shave a bunch of shingles 
before bed-time. On Saturday night, however, all 
work was laid aside, except "the care of their crea- 
tures," and they rested until Monday morning, when 
they would again begin their six long days of hard 
work. The writer of the manuscript from which 
these facts are taken says that without this rest on 
the Sabbath these men could not have stood the awful 
grind of the week days.*^ 

In those times Sabbath observance was taken seri- 
ously. The children were not allowed to whistle or 
sing any tunes except psalm tunes, or read any books 

"Russell and Colbath MS. 
" The same. 



228 Passaconaway 

except religious ones.*^ During the period which we 
are now considering, two young brothers went into 
what was later known as the Church Field after some 
cherries one Sunday. But the cherries had gone by. 
One of the boys thereupon said to the other, "Let us 
go over to the pond and get some berries." No sooner 
said than off they started. They pushed on through 
the narrow strip of woods, towards the first Deer Pond, 
which we now call Church Pond. On coming within 
sight of the pond, they saw some dark object in the 
water on the farther side. While they watched it, they 
saw it begin to come towards them. Without any 
means of defense, yet having a great curiosity to learn 
what it was, each took to a tree. Evidently it was the 
head of soma large animal swimming towards them. 
At first a great fear came over them, for their guilty 
consciences told them that it might be some monster 
sent to punish them for their Sabbath-breaking. Slowly 
the animal continued to swim in their direction until 
it could touch bottom. Then out came its huge shoul- 
ders, and the next moment it waded ashore at their 
very feet. Here it stood, at the edge of the pond, 
gazing up at the strange fruit in the trees as curi- 
ously as the terrified little fellows stared back at it. 
Then the huge beast retraced its steps, swam across 
to the spot where they had first seen it, and majesti- 
cally stalked off into the woods. It was a moose, 
and probably had young somewhere near. Scrambling 
down from their perches, the boys ran home and told 
the family of having seen a "very ferocious animal, 

*' Russell and Colbath MS. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 229 

with large, wild-looking eyes and a dangerous coun- 
tenance." ^^ 

In those days beaten paths were found running 
from the pond in several directions. These were the 
avenues worn smooth by deer and moose in going 
to their drinking-place. Some boys thought they would 
malce a snare across one of these paths. Bending 
down a tree so large that it was all the two could do 
to bring it down with their weight, they fastened it 
with a strong rope, in which they rigged a noose. 
When next they visited the trap, they found a moose 
caught in it.^*^ 

After the first snowfall in the autumn of 1831, a 
moose crossed the river and passed through the fields 
to one of the southern mountains, and, shortly after, 
retraced his steps. He was evidently looking for good 
winter quarters. Some of the young men followed 
the trail until they found tracks of different sizes, 
which showed that there must be a number of moose 
in the vicinity. The young men v/alked in a circle, 
not crossing a track, until they came to their own 
footprints again. Then they went home to wait for 
more snow and a good crust. Not until March were 
they rewarded for their patience. Then these three 
brothers went to the place where the moose were 
yarded up and killed four in one day. These were 
the last moose known to have been killed in the Swift 
River Valley. ^^ 

*' Russell and Colbath MS. 
^ The same. 
'* The same. 



230 Passaconaway 

Becoming dissatisfied with the reputation of the 
town, due to Chocorua's curse and the "Burton Ail," 
many of the townspeople thought it might be bene- 
ficial to change the name. Some suggested the name 
"Boston," others various other names. After much 
discussion, it was decided to call it "Albany," from 
the capital of New York state.^^ In 1832, therefore, 
the citizens petitioned the legislature, and, on July 2, 
1833, with that body's sanction, the town of Burton 
became "Albany," ^^ by which name it is known to- 
day. Because of the two distinct halves of the town, 
which are completely shut off from each other by moun- 
tains, the lower half is known as South Albany and 
the upper as Albany Intervale. One can readily ap- 
preciate the difficulty under which the town business 
was and is transacted because of the necessity of travel- 
ing around the mountain, twenty miles, to town meet- 
ing. The majority of the voters lived in South Albany 
and held most of the town offices and administered 
the town's affairs to suit themselves. At present, the 
town meetings are held alternately in South Albany 
and Albany Intervale, the meetings being held in 
the tiny schoolhouses. 

But "can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leop- 
ard his spots?" ^^ Even with the name of the town 
changed, the cattle still persisted in dying of the "Bur- 

■" Russell and Colbath MS. 

** Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 782; Osgood: White Mts., 342; 
Hajnvard: N. E. Gazetteer, 1839; 'se Rollins: Tourists' Guide-Book, 
N. H., 99. 

"Russell and Colbath MS., quoting Jer. 13:23. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 231 

ton Ail" and the troubles of the settlers did not cease. 
Down from the mountains came wolves, killing or 
driving away the deer and threatening the lonely and 
scattered inhabitants. The few families in this deso- 
late intervale, when night came on, could hear the 
dismal howl of the wolves beginning far off on one 
of the mountains and gradually increasing in volume 
until the noise became a blood-curdling chorus.^^ 

In 1834 some of the intervale settlers began to feel 
the need of religious meetings, especially on the Sab- 
bath. Therefore two aged women, with fear and 
trembling, went one Sunday morning to a house near 
the center of the settlement to see what could be done. 
To their surprise they were met by another on the 
same mission, who had come from the opposite direc- 
tion. As neither party had knowledge of the other's 
intentions, they were greatly encouraged, and ap- 
pointed a meeting for the following Sunday. Others 
joined them "to sing, pray, read and exhort." For 
years these little meetings were kept up, with the occa- 
sional help of a minister from South Albany or from 
some neighboring town. A little society was formed 
as a branch of the Free Will Baptist Church and ten 
members joined, while others affiliated with other 
churches, as they believed right.^*^ There is no church 
in the intervale, although meetings have been held in 
the schoolhouse some summers, when visiting clergy- 
men have preached. 

Not until 1837 was the town road laid out. Up to 

"* Russell and Colbath MS. 
^'' The same. 



232 Passaconaway 

that time inhabitants of the Albany Intervale had to 
drive from door to door, and through fields, to any 
place they wished to go. In 1837 they petitioned the 
selectmen to lay out a highway from the Conway line 
to the Waterville line. The selectmen at that time 
were Joshua Nickerson, David Allard and Samuel 
Lawrence, all of whom lived at South Albany. The 
"town fathers" feared the cost of such a road as was 
petitioned for. To avoid the expense of bridging the 
river, they laid out the road "to the river, and from 
the river, when they came to it." ^'^ Of course by this 
plan a very long, zig-zag and inconvenient road was 
the result, but it was some improvement over the old 
way. Says the author of the Russell Manuscript: "I 
give this as a fair sample of the way the town busi- 
ness was done until at length the credit of the town 
was gone. ^^ 

During the thirties a great fever of land specula- 
tion raged throughout the country, and almost the en- 
tire township was lotted off, mountains as well as bog 
and marsh being sold at fabulous prices to New York 
and Boston parties.^^ 

In 1840 an interesting experiment was tried. Lum- 
bermen from the Saco came into the valley, bought 
timber lands and attempted to drive logs down the 
Swift River. The swiftness of the little river during 
the spring freshets, its crookedness, and the rockiness 
of its bed prevented success. Thereupon the men peti- 

" Russell and Colbath MS. 

'"' The same. 

^"Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 783; Osgood: White Mts., 342. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 233 

tioned the legislature for permission to construct a 
sluiceway. Thus armed, they built side-dams and 
sluiceways, being obliged to do much blasting. For 
a few years logs were hauled to the river bank, 
whence, by the help of the sluiceways, they were driven 
down the Swift into the Saco. But this operation after 
a while was suspended, and the river once more "rolled 
unvexed" ^"^ to its confluence with the Saco. 

After narrating this repulse of the attack of the 
timber-slaughterers, the author of the old manuscript 
from which I am transcribing data, jubilantly bursts 
out into poetry thus : 

"Oh, fair Swift River, go on and go by, 

Go on and go down till the voice of the sea 

And the white lips of surf and the hand of the tide 

And the might of the deep, where great ships ride, 

Reach out and give welcome to thee." ®^ 

After chronicling this experiment of river-driving, 
perhaps I may mention here various railroad projects. 
In 1839 ^ survey of the intervale was made for a rail- 
road route from Portland to Vermont. No such rail- 
road was built, however.^^ On July 9, 1874, a charter 
was granted to the Swift River Railroad. It was pro- 
posed to build this railroad from the height of land 
in Waterville to Conway, where it was to connect 
with the Portsmouth, Great Falls and Conway Rail- 
road.*'^ This railroad never was constructed. 

^ Abraham Lincoln. 

" Mrs. Amzi Russell in the Russell MS. 
*' Merrill: Hist, of Carroll Co., 783. 
"'The same, 68. 



234 Passaconaway 

For many years the Bartlett Land and Lumber 
Company owned and operated a lumber railroad from 
Upper Bartlett to the Albany Intervale. This road 
ran through the Bear Mountain Notch. Frank Holies 
gives a fascinating description of riding on the engine 
of the lumber train on this road, late in 1891.*^* I think 
that the road was in operation from the early 1870's 
until the 1890's. In 1906 or 1907 a lumber railroad 
from Conway to the Albany Intervale was built by 
the Conway Lumber Company. Over this road many 
millions of feet of fine timber have been hauled out 
of the valley. But while this chapter is being written 
(in May, 191 6), a rumor comes to me that the Com- 
pany has sold out its lands to the United States Gov- 
ernment and that the road will be discontinued and 
the rails taken up. 

Let us glance at some of the settlers who followed 
the pioneers whom we have already mentioned. Among 
the early settlers were the Bickford, Broughton, Shack- 
ford and Burbank families. Ebenezer Burbank moved 
into the intervale from Conway about 1830. He 
owned land on both sides of the Swift River. He 
found the low, level land on the south side of the 
river best for raising hay; while the sunny hillside 
(now known as Birch Ridge) was less frosty, and 
therefore better for corn and other vegetables. His 
farm was about one-half mile east of Shackford's. In 
1866 Mr. Burbank moved to Madison. He had been 
Selectman of Albany for nine years. ^^ His eldest son, 

"'Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 243-5. 
"Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 786-7. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 235 

Hubbard C. Burbank, succeeded him on the farm in 
the intervale. Hubbard C. Burbank died in 1885. 
Soon afterwards the Burbank farm came into posses- 
sion of Richard Hill, and to this day it is known as 
"the Dick Hill Place." After Hill's ownership of the 
farm it passed into the hands of George B. James, 
and by him was sold to the Conway Lumber Com- 
pany. This farm was included in the lands purchased 
in 19 1 5-19 16 by the United States Government to be 
a portion of the National Forest Reservation. 

One of the earlier settlers who, by homestead right, 
acquired land in the Albany Intervale, was Thomas 
H. Shackford, a hard-working and prosperous farmer. 
He succeeded in raising some fine cattle, even when 
his neighbors failed. He cleared many acres of land, 
and erected the largest group of buildings in the 
intervale. Until fire laid flat the Passaconaway House, 
with its sheds and barns, on February 13, 191 6, speci- 
mens of the senior Shackford's handiwork could be 
seen. In the barns, sheds, and in the attic of the 
house, one could look upon the great oak beams, bear- 
ing ax-marks, for they were all hand-hewn. The 
frames of the buildings were held together with oak 
pegs. The white pine shingles were riven out by hand, 
and these original shingles, up to the time the build- 
ings were consumed by flame, seemed to be as sound 
and serviceable as v/hen first laid. Many were the in- 
teresting and sometimes exciting experiences of this 
settler. His son used to tell of poling about in flat- 
bottomed boats, near the barn, during spring freshets, 
when the water came up around the back part of the 



Passaconaway 

James M. Shackford, son of Th. 
-the Albany Intervale' aufj^rif"" T 'r"'" 
War, tourists, attracted by the scenerv 1 ' ^'"' 
water began to visit the nterV^le Zd .ShP"';?''^? 
soon became a popular summer Lrt ^h '^^""'^^ 
crease m the number of summer hn^ *'''"'' '"" 

s.tated the enlargement ofThu '^'" '°°" "«"■ 

-2-b ,r:r;;:^-;csht^ 

Cambrid;,^Ta's:" Se^ l^; ^^T^/-^ oj 
ford survived the change long Fro"! "' \^'''^- 
;n Conway both passed on imo Z^n T " 
, Uncle Jim" and "Aunt Ha,mah " ' ^'^''"^■' 

lovmgly called them we -p^^ , ' ,. "" "" "^'ghbors 
thrifty Yankees. H;wJe 2r' 'l^^*"'°*-g. and 
to Uncle Jim-s storiesT oVr 'a "" '" '"''"' ""^"'"^ 
="> "all fired big bear" Vh u °"" ""^'"^ ^^out 

Tremont, and the des^rintin Tl^ °'" °^ ^°""t 
away slide in the J. ZT\ t ^"^' P^^'«°"- 
surveying with a cert.^"'^ ".''™.^^^- Shackford went 

would tMnk that G rgTvCSr^ 'T"™™'' °"^ 
veyor had been re-emb'odied Un iTV ^°""^ ^"- 
of mflexible honestv ",= J™ was a man 

"wordwasasgoTj-astsCd-^Hf^'-r.'''^'^ 

most every town office and for several t '"'"' '" ''" 

to Concord by his fellow-citizens at ^i 7 ^'' ''"' 

" Mrs. c„,ba,h', ,.„„, ' '' '^"'- R<=Presenta- 




Q 

a; 

o 

-J. 

a 

< 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 237 

tive In the state legislature. To Mr. Shackford, more 
than to any other one person, Is the valley Indebted 
for Its development as a summer resort. Fishermen, 
hunters and mountain-climbers liked the house he kept, 
and to this day the Intervale Is more widely known as 
"Shackford's" than as "Passaconaway." 

Charles Church came here from Massachusetts 
some time between 1840 and 1850. He was engaged 
In the lumber business and purchased land far up the 
river, nearly up to Sabbaday Brook. At first he en- 
deavored to run logs down the Swift River, but soon 
discovered that this was Impracticable. He built a 
mill for manufacturing lumber. He also erected a 
small house at the extreme upper end of the settle- 
ment where a field had formerly been cleared by the 
Morse family. Here he and his family lived while he 
superintended his Interests. He was unsuccessful In 
his business venture, and left the valley much poorer 
In pocket than when he came In. Many years later, 
his wife and daughter having died meanwhile, he re- 
turned to the intervale, probably about 1870. He 
spent his remaining days with the Shackfords, until his 
body was laid to rest In the little Russell Cemetery in 
the valley which he loved dearly.^'^ 

Gilbert Chase lived In "the yellow house," near 
Onslow S. Smith's, from about 1848 to 1855. His 
wife died in 1855, and the family was scattered, most 
of the children preferring city life and work In the 
factories. ^^ 

"Mrs. Colbath's letters. 
"'Mrs. Colbath. 



238 Passaconaway 

James Mayhew, a veteran of the Civil War and a 
G. A. R. man, came into Albany Intervale about 1870, 
and built a small house for summer boarders, which 
was known as the "Carrigain House," which became 
popular and which was carried on successfully until 
its owner's death in 1895. The boarders would get 
up coaching parties to attend the circus at North Con- 
way. This was their cheer, which they were wont to 
fling out on such occasions: 

"Yellow and white! Yellow and white! 
We're from Mayhew's, we're all right!" 

They would then flourish their yellow and white 
streamers. Many were the good times enjoyed in 
this hospitable mountain hostelry. Frank Bolles used 
to make the Carrigain House his headquarters when in 
the Albany Intervale.^^ Some time after the death of 
Mr. Mayhew, the house was temporarily occupied by 
"Jack" Allen. Later it was used by the Conway Lum- 
ber Company to house some of its field officials. Here, 
too, the Lumber Company erected a store. I am told 
that, after the Lumber Company finishes lumbering, 
the house is to be the headquarters of the government 
Forest Wardens. 

Joseph Annis came in 1869 and was the town's 
representative in the legislature in 1875 and 1877.'^^ 
Mr. Annis was a very upright and religious man. He 
drove the stage from Passaconaway to Conway and 

*" See Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water. 
'"Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 786-7. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 239 

carried the mail over this route for years. His farm, 
the old Weeks clearing, joined the Mayhew farm on 
the east side of the latter. The large house and barns 
and broad fields are familiar to all who have any ac- 
quaintance with the Albany Intervale. From the lower 
(eastern) end of his field, near the sharp bend in the 
Swift River, one can get a view of Mount Washing- 
ton, through the Bear Mountain Notch. 

James Annis succeeded his father as stage-driver 
and farmer. He is a hard-working man, supplement- 
ing his farm work and postal-route activities with team- 
ing. Ever since Joseph Annis settled in the valley, the 
Annis home has been a favorite boarding-place; hun- 
dreds of fishermen, hunters, trampers, summer board- 
ers, and week-enders have enjoyed its bountiful hos- 
pitality. James' son. Earl, now grown to manhood's 
estate, follows along the same lines of activity as his 
father and grandfather, and is a steady, industrious 
young man. 

Soon after the close of the Civil War, George A. 
Loring, a Union veteran and a Boston architect, came 
into this region for his health, and fell in love with 
the Passaconaway Intervale. After boarding here 
several summers, he became so much attached to the 
place that he purchased a lot and built a little bunga- 
low. Here he spent long delightful summers. He 
had the best garden in the intervale, in which, among 
other appetizing delicacies, he had a bed of cultivated 
strawberries. In his cellar was a little spring, the 
sides of which he boarded up, thus making a natural 
ice-chest, an original "White Mountain Refrigerator." 



240 Passaconaway 

Mr. Loring could cook as well as any woman. Nor 
was he destitute of humor. "Once upon a time" (so 
all the fairy stories begin, but this is not a fairy tale), 
a party of his friends came into the intervale and 
asked him to pilot them into the very heart of the 
wilderness, where they wished to camp for three weeks. 
At daylight, next morning, the obliging host mustered 
the little army of Vv^ould-be campers, and led the march 
into the great woods. All day they tramped, up hill 
and down dale, until, at dusk, the word was given 
to pitch the tents. This done, Mr. Loring took his 
farewell, promising to return in a few days, and ex- 
tracting from the campers a solemn promise that they 
would keep close to camp, lest they stray off, get lost, 
and perhaps perish. During the next fortnight, Mr. 
Loring, as guardian angel, paid four or five visits to 
the campers, each time repeating his warning to "hug 
the camp." During, the third week, a camper, more 
adventurous than his fellows, wandered perhaps a full 
half mile from headquarters. At this terrifying dis- 
tance from his comrades, Mr. Camper came out upon 
the highway squarely in front of Mr. Loring's little 
red bungalow, with its welcoming Santa Claus in the 
front window. Animated with a love of fun and a 
desire to make his periodic journeys to camp as short 
as possible, Mr. Loring, on the first day, had marched 
the innocents round and round in great circles until, 
daylight having worn itself away, camp was pitched 
within a short distance of the starting-point. 

Mr. Loring fondly hoped to end his days in the 
beautiful intervale, which, for many years, he called 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 241 

"home," But it was not so to be. With the revival 
of the lumber activities, under the Conway Lumber 
Company, a lumber railroad once more penetrated 
the quiet, peaceful valley. The very thought of such 
profane intrusion was so repugnant to this lover of 
solitude and scenery that he sold his cottage and land 
to A. C. Kennett, of Conway, and returned to Boston 
in 1906."^ Only a few years after this abandonment 
of his old familiar and well-beloved mountain home, 
Mr. Loring died. Was he heart-broken? Who can 
tell? The little bungalow still stands there, on the 
bank of the Swift River, between the White Brook and 
the Olivarian, but its dreamer, its creator, its soul, has 
departed. 

To "Jack" Allen, the intervale's most picturesque 
inhabitant, I shall devote an entire chapter. 

During the periods of lumbering operations, the in- 
tervale again and again has teemed with "lumber- 
jacks." Many a French Canadian brought a big fam- 
ily into the valley, living in some of the shanties at 
the lower (eastern) end of the "Great Intervale," near 
the Bolles Trail, or in some of the many paper-roofed 
log "shacks" on the banks of the various streams flow- 
ing into the Swift River. Among these numerous 
French Canadians was a man known among the Eng- 
lish-speaking portion of the community as "Bumble- 
bee." Probably his real name was Bodreau.'^- He 
came about 1890, and remained three or four years. 
He never owned any land, but occupied a little shanty 

"Mrs. Colbath. 
"The same. 



242 Passaconaway 

on the south side of the highway, just west of the pres- 
ent Camp Paugus, which is owned by Elijah B. Carl- 
ton. Here the remains of an old well may be seen. 
This was the site of Bumblebee's humble home, im- 
mortalized by Frank Bolles in one of his chapters. '^^ 
And humble indeed it was. The one-roomed shack 
was twelve feet long and ten feet wide. The ridge- 
pole was only twelve feet from the ground. The roof 
was unshingled. The chimney was a crazy stove-pipe. 
Of Bumblebee's five children, the oldest was eight 
years old. The mind of Bumblebee's wife was af- 
fected. Who can wonder? 

Onslow S. Smith became a resident of the "Great 
Valley" about 1890. He was the son of Thurston 
Smith, a prominent citizen of South Albany. From 
Mr. Shackford he bought a strip of land between the 
Passaconaway House and what was, at one time, the 
Tibado place, living in the house v/hich he has since 
enlarged. Mr. Smith has engaged in lumbering, hunt- 
ing, fishing, trapping, gumming, farming, etc. He is 
the best guide in all this region, and repeatedly has 
served the Appalachian Mountain Club and its indi- 
vidual members in this capacity. He is quick, power- 
ful, resourceful and able. Mr. Smith has held almost 
every office within the gift of the town. He has served 
as moderator of town meetings for years, making an 
admirable presiding officer, because of his familiarity 
with parliamentary rules and state law, his cool- 
headedness and fairness. His experiences in the great 
woods would make an interesting little volurne. 

"Bolles: At the North of Bearcamp Water, 275. 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 243 

In 1902 my father, who had been camping In the 
Passaconaway Intervale for four summers, bought a 
small parcel of land from Mr. Shackford, and the fol- 
lowing summer built a cottage, which in succeeding 
summers he repeatedly enlarged. This was the sec- 
ond cottage erected by "summer people" in the valley, 
Mr. Loring's being the first. Later, Father bought 
from Elijah Carlton eighty-five or ninety acres, for- 
merly owned by John Tibado. 

Mr. Alfred Povall, the last proprietor of the old 
Passaconaway House, was born in England. Coming 
to the United States soon after his marriage, he served 
as chief engineer in various large concerns in Port- 
land, Me., the mining region of Pennsylvania, and in 
Massachusetts. The Povalls had been our next-door 
neighbors in Cambridge, Mass. The son, James T. 
Povall, had passed through a severe sickness. We in- 
veigled him up to "God's Country" In the "Land of 
the Sky" (Passaconaway). A single summer put him 
on his feet again. He felt like a new man. He fell 
In love with the intervale, and, at his suggestion, his 
father purchased the Passaconaway House from Mr. 
Shackford in 1907. The old hostelry was practically 
rebuilt, an automobile was purchased, and telephone 
connection with the outside world was established. 
These Improvements attracted a new group of patrons, 
and the little farm-house hotel became a busy place 
from July to October. The daughter taught the Passa- 
conaway school. The son (James T.) served the 
town of Albany in various offices, for one term being 
Representative in the legislature at Concord. He was 



244 Passaconaway 

also Postmaster of Passaconaway. 

On Sunday morning, February 13, 19 16, the chim- 
ney of the Passaconaway House tool^ fire. Mr. Povall 
and his son succeeded, as they supposed, in extinguish- 
ing the flames. After dinner, while "Father" Povall 
was taking a nap, "Jim" awakened him with the alarm- 
ing information that all the upper part of the house, 
around the chimney, was ablaze. So thick was the 
smoke that nothing could be rescued from the second 
or third floors. The nearest fire department was fif- 
teen miles away — at Conway. 'Twas the depth of win- 
ter and bitterly cold. Nothing could be done to save 
the buildings. A strong west wind swept the fire 
through the house, sheds and barns, in two hours lay- 
ing them flat; only the laundry, to the windward of 
the flames, and the garage and Post Ofl^ce, across the 
street, escaping. Nothing remained of the historic 
old buildings except a layer of ashes and black cinders. 
Only a little of the furniture in the two front rooms on 
the ground floor was saved. The ruin of the build- 
ings was complete. The neighbors loyally hastened 
to the burning house and rendered what assistance they 
could. The horse, the faithful old house-dog, and 
other animals were saved. For several days the 
Povalls were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Then 
they took up temporary quarters in Camp Paugus (the 
Elijah B. Carlton cottage). 

The fire refugees lived in Camp Paugus until May, 
19 1 6. 'Twas a frightfully cold winter and an un- 
usually blustering spring. During the more than quar- 
ter century of Mr. Smith's residence in the intervale, 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 245 

the wind never blew so hard and so continuously. 
Some nights, it seemed as if the cottage would be 
blown over bodily. On one occasion, at least, the 
family rose at 2 a. m., wrapped blankets around their 
shivering bodies, and huddled about the red-hot stove, 
miserably awaiting daylight. One of the minor com- 
pensations for this chapter of hardship was a gorgeous 
display of Northern Lights. 

When the family bade their final farewell to the 
valley on May 6, the mountains were still clothed with 
snow; indeed the peaks were whiter than they ever 
had seen them before. On their way down to Conway 
they overtook a huge bear in the road down Spruce 
Hill. When his ursine majesty saw the party approach- 
ing, he threw up his muzzle and sniffed, then turned, 
dug his great claws into the snow, and made off in 
long leaps with the speed of a race-horse. 

Miss Povall having married only a few weeks be- 
fore the fire, the family decided to accompany her to 
her new home in Spokane, Washington. Having dis- 
posed of their property, the Povalls left Portland, Me., 
in a bran-new touring car, armed with a letter of in- 
troduction from the Mayor of Portland to the Mayor 
of Spokane, Wash. We had the pleasure of welcom- 
ing them for a few hours in our home in Worcester. 
While I write this paragraph, they probably are speed- 
ing over the roads, up the historic old Mohawk Val- 
ley, headed for Niagara Falls, Cleveland, Chicago, 
Yellowstone Park, and their new home in the great 
Northwest. The good wishes of hosts of New Eng- 
land friends will accompany the family on their long 



246 Passaconaway 

automobile trip and in their new environment. 

My father sold the Tibado farm, which he had 
bought from Mr. Carlton, to Mrs. Eliza G. (Metcalf) 
Radeke, of Providence, R. I., a philanthropic woman 
of means and unusual ability. For many years she has 
been the President of the Rhode Island School of De- 
sign. This is only one of the many enterprises in 
which she is interested and to which she gives liberally. 
Mrs. Radeke built three bungalows, one of which is 
now the property of Rev. Arthur P. Hunt, a profes- 
sor in the Episcopal Theological School in New York 
City. Mrs. Hunt (Mrs. Una A. Hunt) is the well- 
known author of "Una Mary" and other books. She 
is the daughter of Professor Frank Wigglesworth 
Clarke, the renowned chief chemist of the U. S. Geo- 
logical Survey, a member of innumerable learned so- 
cieties and the author of many scientific books. 

Since the Passaconaway House was burned, Mr. 
Hunt has purchased from Alfred Povall the old Shack- 
ford farm. A new hotel, containing twenty sleeping 
rooms, will be erected, and this will be run as such a 
mountain hostelry should be run, so that lovers of the 
mountains will be attracted here, perhaps as never be- 
fore. Thus, in coming years, as in the past half-cen- 
tury, this most beautiful valley in all the White Moun- 
tains will be able to extend a welcome to those who 
appreciate and desire unsurpassed scenery and invigo- 
rating mountain air. 

Thus, although individuals and families and genera- 
tions come and go, neither time nor tide (to use Mrs. 
Russell's phraseology) has swept away the mountain 



Albany Intervale, Past and Present 247 

wall which surrounds our cloud-land valley; but, "as 
the mountains are round about Jerusalem," '^* so, on 
a larger scale, do grander peaks engird and fortify 
Passaconaway in the White MountainsJ^ 

'*Ps. 125:2. 

"Brief Bibliography on Albany. Merrill: History of Carroll 
County, 1889, 782-7; Osgood's White Mountains, 1880 edition, 342-4; 
Coolidge and Mansfield: History and Description of New England, 
1861, volume on New Hampshire, 405-7; Farmer and Moore: Gazet- 
teer of New Hampshire, 1823, 38 (under the name of "Burton") ; 
Charlton: New Hampshire as It Is, 1856, 89; Hayward: New England 
Gazetteer, 1839, in loco; Rollins: Tourists' Guide-book to the State 
of New Hampshire, 1902, 99-100. 

In a single chapter of a book like this it would be impossible to 
attempt a complete local history. Only a few of the more interesting 
facts can be presented. In an exhaustive record it would be neces- 
sary to speak of many who are not mentioned in the foregoing ac- 
count. For example, there was John Douglas, who lived on the 
Chase place over the river, back of the Annis farm. He built a dam 
and saw-mill, and the Douglas Brook was named for him. He had 
three daughters and two sons. One boy caught his hand in a bear- 
trap and died from the effects of the wound. The other boy was 
drowned in Conway. On the same site lived Orin Chase and the 
Bickfords and Deerings. The tradition is that Olive Deering fell 
into a brook and was drowned; and "Olivarian," the present name 
of this brook, is said to be a corruption of "Olive Deering." George 
Purington built the Tibado house. A Mr. Haskell built a house and 
mill at the foot of Mt. Potash, the ruins of which may be seen to-day. 
Allen's Mill, at the lower end of the intervale, was built by William 
Allen. John L. Peavey conducted extensive lumbering operations in 
the valley in the 1890's. (See biographical sketch in Merrill: Hist, 
of Carroll County, N. H., 391.) The Passaconaway Post Office was 
established about 1890. Frank Bolles assisted in securing it. Lawyer 
Carter, of Tamworth, or Ossipee, suggested the name. The office, 
for many years after its opening, was in charge of Mrs. Colbath, as 
postmistress. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A CHAPTER OF ADVENTURES 

Bounties on Bears 

BEARS always have abounded in the Albany Inter- 
vale. Sixteen of them were killed during one 
month, October, 1866.^ At one time they became a 
nuisance and a menace. Hence the town, although 
poor, offered a generous bounty upon bears, said bounty 
to be paid upon the presentation of the ears of the 
bear. Bounties were claimed and paid on a surpris- 
ingly large numbers of bears' ears. Presently it came 
to light that some of the people then in the town were 
cutting out pieces of sheep-skin to resemble bears' ears 
in shape, dyeing these black, and turning them in to 
the authorities. So says tradition. I do not vouch 
for the alleged facts. 

Eagle and Rabbit 

During the summer of 1903, some friends of ours 
were tenting at the foot of Hedgehog, at beautiful 
"Camp Comfort." I was a moccasined, bare-legged 
lad of seven, and, upon hearing that the campers were 
planning a little target practice one clear, warm August 

^Merrill: Hist, of Carroll County, 783. 

248 



A Chapter of Adventures 249 

morning, I was delighted and excited. Therefore, as 
soon as breakfast was over, I scampered and pattered 
down the Mast Road just as fast as my legs could 
carry me, now and then casting hasty glances over 
my shoulder to see if my departure had yet been dis- 
covered by my parents in the cottage. I soon reached 
the tall bushes, and behind this screen I felt that I was 
beyond the zone of recall. Nevertheless, I sped on 
with unabated ardor, and was within a few rods of 
the edge of the woods when, "crack!" went a rifle. 
Instantly a. monstrous eagle rose from behind the 
bushes, tightly clasping in his talons something brown- 
ish gray. The eagle was within a few rods of me. 
Seeing me, the great bird began a marvelous ascent on 
his three-foot wings. As he rose, his talons opened 
ever so slightly, and down dropped his prey into the 
bushes. Within a minute or two this "monarch of 
the heavens" had dwindled into a mere speck in the 
blue sky. Then, from this immense height, he sailed 
off, straight as a ruler, over the top of Passaconaway. 
I hunted in the bushes and found a fat, warm, lovely 
rabbit. Picking it up, I found it to be quite dead. The 
vice-like talons had sunk deep into "Br'er Rabbit." 
Little bloody holes told the story. The rabbit certainly 
was a beauty, dead or alive, being soft and fluffy. I 
was completely captivated with the little creature and 
proudly showed it to the campers. But upon their 
suggesting that a fine rabbit stew could be made, I 
fled with my prize back to the cottage, where I cud- 
dled the furry thing for hours. It was my intention 
to keep the rabbit "forever and ever," just as it was. 



250 Passaconaway 

But this plan was vetoed by the "powers that be." 
After protracted protestations on my part, a solemn 
funeral was held, and the little creature was reverently 
interred. 

A Blow-down 

When my father decided to build our cottage, 
"Score-o'-Peaks," he spent his spare hours of the spring 
in making a tent in which the family might live until a 
wooden roof could be erected. The tent was fifteen 
feet long, ten feet wide, with walls about a yard high. 
The poles were made of pieces of steam-pipe, cut into 
proper lengths, which sections could be screwed to- 
gether. The interior of the tent was curtained off 
into compartments. In addition to the tent proper, 
which was sheltered by a "fly," there was an arrange- 
ment for a dining room or living porch in front of 
this canvas house. Nothing could be completer. With 
our folding cots and folding chairs every inch of 
space was made to count. 

We had not lived in the tent a week before we passed 
through an exciting experience. We had gone to bed 
and some of us had dropped off to sleep, when a roar- 
ing sound was heard. Nearer and nearer it came, 
down the mountain-side, through the forest, and before 
we could realize what was the cause of the noise, a 
raging storm broke upon us. The mighty wind laid 
low our beautiful tent at its first onset. With the wind 
came a deluge of rain. Crawling through the wet 
tent canvas, our parents fished us children out of our 



A Chapter of Adventures 251 

beds, rolled us in blankets, bundled us into the wheel- 
barrow and carted us over to the hotel. It was a 
terrifying night. Tremendous gusts of wind made 
walking almost impossible. The rain seemed to come 
in solid masses, and blazing lightning and crashing 
thunder were mingled with blackest darkness. 

We were thankful indeed to reach the shelter of the 
hotel, which, in spite of its heavy frame of great oak 
beams, creaked and shook. The barn door was blown 
off. Mr. Shackford had been laying a pump-pipe from 
a spring out of doors into the kitchen. The wind 
blew in through the ditch under the house and hfted 
and turned over some floor boards which had been 
temporarily laid down without being nailed. 

Father went back to the tent to learn the extent of 
the damage. He rescued all the supplies, furniture 
and clothing, and stored them in the Passaconaway 
House. He found that the iron pipes which formed 
the tent frame had broken in places (at some of the 
threaded joints). He rolled up the tent, tied it in a 
solid roll, and made this bundle fast to a stake in the 
ground. Next morning the tent was set up again and 
its furnishings put back in place, but, after such a thrill- 
ing experience, we children would scud for the hotel if 
a black cloud showed itself in the sky all the rest of 
the summer. 

While climbing Chocorua soon after the "blow- 
down" we found great trees prostrate on the ground, 
freshly uprooted, and for miles the ground was car- 
peted with green leaves which had been torn off by 
the fury of the storm. Some idea of the force of the 



252 Passaconaivay 

wind may be conveyed by a statement of two or three 
facts. Our wash-basin, which, when we retired, had 
been left on an empty barrel which was used for a 
wash-stand, was found next day perhaps twenty-five 
rods from its starting-place, and it evidently had col- 
lided with a tree in its wild midnight flight. A canvas 
out-house, frame and all, was lifted bodily into the 
air and was sailing away on the wings of the storm, 
when its flight was arrested by "Uncle Jim's" hackma- 
tacks, some fifteen rods from where it had been orig- 
inally pegged down. Many of Mr. Knowles' cables, by 
which the Chocorua Peak House was anchored, 
snapped under the terrific strain. 

No more "blow-downs" for us, thank you, if you 
please! 

The Capture of Highwaymen 

It was during the summer of 19 12, I think, that 
our quiet valley was startled by a telephoned warning 
that some highwaymen were on their way up from Con- 
way to our valley. Rumors, two or three days old, 
informed us that an aged woman had been held up 
by highwaymen. It was thought that the desperate 
criminals were now fleeing from justice, with the in- 
tention of escaping into the wilderness. 

About fifteen minutes later two sheriffs came speed- 
ing up the road in an automobile. They left the ma- 
chine at the Passaconaway House and soon were lost 
to sight in the woods back of our cottage. In about 
half an hour four men appeared far down the Mast 



A Chapter of Adventures 253 

Road. As they passed our cottage we could see the 
victims' pallid and frightened countenances. They 
were poorly dressed and unkempt in appearance, truly 
tough-looking specimens of the genus homo. 

The nearest Justice of the Peace, at that time, was 
located at the lumber store, and as the sheriffs wished 
to consult him, they left the highwaymen in the cus- 
tody of a prominent citizen of the valley. The three 
men, prisoners and guard, sat on the hotel porch for 
over an hour; the prisoners, humble, mute, frightened, 
and apparently penitent; the stern guard, rifle in hand, 
glowering, and ever alert. One could easily see that 
he meant business. One single step from their chairs 
and the prisoners would have been dead men. At 
length the officials returned. After a searching inter- 
rogation the prisoners were found to be innocent lum- 
berjacks who had been peaceably walking up the rail- 
road from Conway, on their way to Camp No. 5. 

A Wild-cat or Panther Scare 

Tuesday, August 6, 191 2, was an exceptionally clear 
day, so I decided to give my Colorado cousin a view 
of the valley from Allen's Ledge, on Hedgehog. In 
preference to striking through the tangled woods, we 
decided to ascend by the lumber-road trail, although 
it is nearly twice as long. At the old camp we paused 
to shoot at several inviting marks about the place. We 
had gone but a few hundred feet beyond, when, di- 
rectly back of us, from the road, a savage and power- 
ful cry broke the silence of the woods and brought us 



254 Passaconaway 

up with a start. Sweat started out on our brows in 
great drops. We had taken but a few steps more 
when the cry was again repeated, this time nearer than 
before. He was following us ! Although never hav- 
ing heard the cry before, nevertheless I decided in- 
stantly, from the hoarse, snarling "Mur-r-r-ow-w-w," 
that it came from a wild-cat or a panther. It had all 
the elements of a house cat's snarling cry, yet was a 
hundred times as terrifying. 

We lost no time in gaining the foot of the ledges. 
Every forty steps we took we were greeted with this 
blood-curdling and hair-raising cry. No matter how 
fast we ran, he seemed to keep the same distance be- 
hind us. At the foot of the ledges I discharged one 
of my three remaining birdshot-shells, to try and di- 
vert his attention. Then, with all possible haste, we 
scrambled up to the topmost ledge and lay flat, facing 
the woods, ready for the onslaught. With our bird- 
shot we could at best only blind and infuriate him. 
Tales of wild-cat ferocity and their cruel attacks upon 
their prey ran through my mind; how they would 
spring upon one and with their fangs throttle him, or 
with their hind paws disembowel him. All these 
thoughts chilled my blood and frightened me even 
more than his steadily approaching scream. 

Now the cry was just below us ! "Where will it be 
next?" This question was continually in our minds as 
we lay motionless yet anxious, scanning the woods be- 
low. Just as the silence around us began to be almost 
audible, this ear-piercing cry would rise from the depths 
of the woods and echo and re-echo from the surround- 



A Chapter of Adventures 255 

ing hills. Now his cry was right at the very spot where 
I had fired. The next few minutes were literally agon- 
izing for us. "Would he be frightened at the smell of 
powder, or would he come right on up over the 
ledges?" At last the spell was broken; the next cry 
was from the ridge. He had smelt the freshly burnt 
powder and was making off over the ridge. For the 
next fifteen minutes we thankfully listened to his rapidly 
receding cries, until finally they were swallowed up in 
the fastnesses of the dark forests on the side of Mount 
Passaconaway. 

Probably we shall never know just what the animal's 
motive was. Some natives claim that he was merely 
calling his mate. On our return trip we could easily 
trace in the soft mud in certain spots, paw-prints as 
large as tea-cups in our very path. The strange part 
is that, as we turned from one branch road to another, 
he invariably changed his course correspondingly. We 
were thankful to emerge from the great cat's jurisdic- 
tion without coming to close quarters with his pussy- 
ship. A well known citizen of Conway said, on look- 
ing at the stuffed lynx in our cottage, "I shouldn't 
want such gentlemen to camp on my trail." Although 
"all's well that ends well," my cousin and I, from 
personal experience, can testify that it isn't pleasant to 
have "such gentlemen camp on one's trail." 

Wanted — A New Noah! 

"Patter, Patter, Splash!" I rouse myself from 
sound sleep and listen to the gentle sprinkling on the 



256 Passaconaway 

roof. Is there any music like the patter of rain on 
a wooden roof? Outside everything is pitch dark. It 
must be about midnight. Rapidly the rain increases. 
Now it pours. This is no ordinary shower. Such 
sheets of rain I never want to see or hear again. The 
torrent beats upon our frail roof as if it would batter 
it in. This storm will be remembered in our Passacon- 
away valley as "the 19 12 Cloud-burst." 

By five o'clock next morning the rain ceased, and, 
coming down-stairs, we saw, in the dim light — for the 
clouds were still very low and threatening — huge pud- 
dles of water, in places a foot deep, in our front yard, 
garden and Mast Road. But look across Mr. Povall's 
hay-field! There is a silver streak foaming by. How 
the Swift over-leaps its banks and spreads out over the 
fields ! The little river must have risen six or seven 
feet since sundown. 

After breakfast, the sun having come out brightly, 
all of the inhabitants of the valley turned out to see 
the unusual sight. In the Grove, which is at least four 
or five feet above the normal water-level, the water 
was knee-deep. Mr. Smith's bridge had been carried 
down-stream and was now wedged between tall trees 
a quarter of a mile away. The river was running like 
a mill-race. Muddy water stretched and surged be- 
neath the trees and bushes. Huge logs, some two feet 
in diameter, rushed down on the current like race 
horses. Whole trees swept by, now and then striking 
the bank or a half-submerged fence, then veering off, 
or swinging round, and rushing on. These, I imag- 
ined, gave the appearance of crocodiles or derelicts as 



A Chapter of Adventures 257 

their ugly forms went whirling by. At the junction of 
the Downes with the Swift, all familiar landmarks 
were obliterated. A great lake reached far into the 
woods on both sides. The volume of the combined 
streams was something incredible and indescribable. 

The lumberjacks, in their camp on the Downes, 
had been awakened at three o'clock in the morning 
by the deafening roar of logs and rocks which were 
swept and rolled along by the current. The men rushed 
to the stable and liberated the frightened horses. Some 
of the poor animals were standing in four feet of 
water. (Lumbermen seem to love to build on the 
very edge of the water.) A few days before the storm, 
a wheezy little automobile had carried a party of berry- 
pickers to a hillock between the Downes and the Swift, 
just west of the junction. This party was marooned 
for two or three days. Two of the hotel people, ardent 
photographers, started up to Sabbaday Falls for the 
purpose of securing one of the wonderful pictures ob- 
tainable only in flood time. But in crossing the Sab- 
baday, in water which came to their waist, one of them 
lost his footing. Had not the other quickly assisted 
him, possibly he might have been lost, for the current 
on that day was so strong that no swimmer, however 
powerful, could hope to breast it. 

In the early years of the settlement at Conway, every 
building in the Saco basin was carried away by a flood.^ 
The Swift has a very steep pitch, and in a few hours 
is able to drain off the enormous quantity of water 
which the mountains contribute to it. Our 19 12 flood 

'Merrill: History of Carroll County, 824-825. 



258 Passaconaway 

had subsided considerably by night time. By noon, in 
fact, we could see that its high-water mark had been 
reached. Within a couple of days the streams were of 
normal size. A few washouts, undermined banks and 
misplaced logs constituted practically all the damage. 
Yet the flood was an almost terrifying sight during the 
few hours it was at its height. The fields back of the 
Passaconaway House were one broad sheet of water, 
extending up to the ice-house. At one time we thought 
that we might be called upon to attempt the role of a 
new Noah. 

Pine Bend Camp 

Far up the Swift River Trail, there stood a tiny 
cabin in the very heart of the great wilderness. This 
camp was built of logs, chinked with mud. Bunks were 
built against the walls. The owner of the camp was 
a Conway physician. Many are the stories of savage 
visitors told by those who have spent the night in this 
camp. 

Late one autumn the doctor brought some friends 
up for a week end. The next night, I think, an urgent 
telephone message came to the hotel for the doctor 
to return quickly to Conway. The night was starless 
and pitch dark, and the camp was four good long moun- 
tain miles away. The path lay through dense un- 
frequented woods. One of the Smith boys set out 
to carry the message to the physician. Armed only 
with a lantern, he started out at a brisk pace. The 
black trees and bushes, the silent and dark mountains. 



A Chapter of Adventures 259 

the gurgling Downes Brook and murmuring Swift 
River made the night a lonely one. 

Young Smith walked on in the biting air, now with 
echoing steps passing from rock to rock over the brook, 
and soon was buried in the darkness of the thick 
woods. Now the snap of a twig would make his tense 
nerves start; now a rustling bush just ahead, just out 
of the lantern light, would tell of the scurrying away 
of some timid creature. The sudden hoot of an owl 
so startled him that he almost dropped his lantern. 

But, hark ! 'Tis not an owl now. Again, again and 
again, only about half a mile ahead, sounds a long, 
loud and terrifying cry, something like the cry of a 
woman. The cry is repeated, louder and more terrify- 
ing than before. With beads of sweat upon his fore- 
head, hair standing on end, hat — as he afterwards ex- 
pressed it — "six inches above his head," the stalwart 
youth presses forward. Now the animal is but a few 
rods ahead, directly in the path, and rapidly approach- 
ing. The lad must either turn back with message un- 
delivered, or press on and perhaps die in the clutches 
of the horrible animal. Duty requires the latter 
course. With the fatalism of desperation, he reasons 
that if he is to die, die he will, and if he is destined to 
reach his destination he will do so; but never will he 
turn back! As if in a dream he mechanically presses 
on. Eager either to do or die, he becomes impatient 
and lopes along. Suddenly his progress is abruptly 
checked by a powerful, nerve-racking shriek out of 
the deathlike silence of the wood. Only a few yards 
ahead the beast is coming. 



2 6o Passaconaway 

And now, directly in the path in front of the boy, a 
huge shaggy beast appears, twice as big as a barrel. 
For a moment the approaching bear hesitates. Straight 
at the light he looks. The valiant boy, all unarmed, 
continues to press on. His lantern bobs up and down. 
The bear, blinking his eyes, half rises on his haunches, 
and then, with a swift turn, lumbers off towards the 
south. So close was the boy to the bear that he could 
have cut it with a long-lashed whip. The retreating 
brute was almost instantly lost to ear and eye. When, 
a few minutes later, young Smith entered the camp, he 
was as pale as a sheet and drops of cold sweat stood 
on his forehead. 

Why the Chowder Did Not Come to a Boil 

The Doctor is a great devotee of fishing and not 
infrequently during the season he used to bring friends 
up to his little Pine Bend camp. On one such trip, sev- 
eral summers ago, the campers brought up milk, salt, 
pepper, butter, onions, pork, and crackers to have a 
chowder. The trout bit voraciously on the first day, 
which was dark and misty, with low-hanging clouds. 
Next morning proved to be of similar character and, 
if anything, more "open and shut." Well knowing 
that such fis-hing days were rare, the men went out 
again, leaving Mr. Smith to cook a chowder. 

Shortly after their departure the guide took the pan 
of fish down to the brook to clean them. Already over 
fifty had been cleaned when a strong mouse-like odor 
permeated the air, and a twig snapped between the 



A Chapter of Adventures 261 

man and the camp. Looking back, Mr. Smith saw a 
huge black bear, not four rods away, coming towards 
him down the path from the camp. On came Bruin 
and presently he rose upon his haunches. The man 
had no weapon except his jack-knife and the pan of 
fish. My, but wasn't that black bear a giant! But 
the guide did not stop to welcome or measure his visi- 
tor. He promptly abandoned fish and all and beat 
a precipitous retreat across the brook. Bruin thank- 
fully accepted the guide's hospitality, and, lowering 
himself to all fours again, devoured the trout. Then 
with a grunt of thanks, or satisfaction, he shuffled off. 
Not until the shaggy guest was well out of sight did 
the host abandon his post of observation from which 
he had been watching the "company manners" of his 
visitor. At dark, when the fishermen returned to the 
log cabin, tired and hungry, they found a platter of 
steaming canned baked beans awaiting them instead 
of the luscious trout chowder which they had expected. 
The reason the chowder had not boiled was that the 
"cook had been entertaining a caller." 

How the Deer Helped To Harvest Our Crops 

We had been considerably troubled, during the sum- 
mer of , by deer coming into our garden and 

eating the tops off the young vegetables. Every morn- 
ing we found fresh hoof-prints and could see where 
the sweet and newly sprouted vegetables had been 
cropped off close to the ground. 

Father and I decided to watch, in four-hour watches. 



262 Passaconaway 

for the deer through an open window just under our 
porch roof. As night drew near we made our neces- 
sary arrangements and I prepared for bed. At pre- 
cisely midnight I was aroused and notified (much 
against my inclination) that my watch was to begin. 
So far all had been quiet. Wrapping up as warmly 
as possible, with "Old Jack's" rifle lying across my 
knee, and with field glasses at my side, I waited and 
waited and waited. Just as I was beginning to get 
sleepy I heard a snip, snip, snip, and a sniff or two. 
It sounded much like a person trimming a tender hedge 
with a pair of shears. Then followed a ripping and 
tearing. Then again snip, snip. The stars were out, 
but a thin layer of fog rested over the intervale and 
garden. Shivering and intensely excited, I peered into 
the fog, but although the deer was only fifty feet away 
(as was shown by his tracks next morning) I couldn't 
see a thing. It was weird, ghostly; the snip, snipping, 
now a step or two, now a sniff, and then some more 
snip, snip. At last I raised the field glasses to my 
eyes and there before me I saw, not the deer, but the 
white belly, white neck, and his white flag, nervously 
swishing and whisking, first this side and then that. I 
put aside my glasses and leveled the rifle, but it was 
no use. The phantom had vanished, though I could 
hear the continued snip, snipping close at hand. At 
length, abandoning all thought of trying to injure the 
beautiful creature, I decided to watch his every move- 
ment through the glasses. Try as I might, I could 
not, save in my imagination, make out his entire out- 
line. All I could see was the "white lining of his coat." 



A Chapter of Adventures 263 

This kept up until a rooster, over at the hotel, crowed; 
and then my wild friend, my guest and companion for 
half a night, stealthily worked his way towards the 
road. Suddenly the morning light began to shine 
through the fog and I was able to see clearly the form 
of a large buck, with head erect, leisurely sauntering 
down the road towards the Hill Farm. As soon as 
the sun came up I went out into the garden and saw 
where he had tracked up and down several times in 
each row. He had taken away every young sprout. 
But I came to the conclusion that if he enjoyed our 
vegetables as much as he appeared to, he was quite 
welcome to them, for we couldn't possibly get as much 
enjoyment out of them as he was getting. He came 
every night all the rest of the summer, making his ap- 
pearance between one and two in the morning. And 
sometimes the hoof-prints would show that a doe and 
little fawn also had been helping to harvest our crops. 

Forest Fires 

One thing seems to pursue lumbering operations as 
closely and as inevitably as a cloud of dust follows a 
speeding automobile, and that is a forest fire; and a 
forest fire can cause plenty of destruction and excite- 
ment. 

The first real forest fire I ever saw, and then only 
from a distance, was when I was perhaps ten years 
old. The sky became dirty and mud colored, and so 
heavily laden with smoke was the air that breathing be- 
came somewhat difficult. Next morning the sun was 



264 Passaconaway 

blood-red and appeared as it does when viewed through 
smoked glass. With increasing fury the fire raged 
for days, about fifteen miles north of us. At night 
there was a pink glow, stretching for miles just 
over Green's Cliff and Carrigain. Sometimes it would 
brighten up considerably, then, after a short time, die 
down to its usual steady glow. This may have been 
caused by the flames rushing up a strip of white birches, 
which burn furiously for a short time. The last few 
days of our vacation, large black cinders, some of them 
several inches in length, floated over our valley, and 
we children delighted in chasing and catching some of 
the lowest ones. Upon the day we left the air was 
fearfully smoky, the north wind wafting mammoth 
rolls of smoke across our valley, and it was with some 
anxiety for our little cottage that we returned to the 
city. Later we learned of the devastation wrought. 

I recall the exciting summer of 191 2. On June thir- 
tieth of that year an ugly looking cloud of smoke ap- 
peared just the other side of Bartlett Haystack and 
Tremont. An hour later Chief Povall was running 
his automobile at breakneck speed, carrying Wardens 
Howe and Brewster over to Rocky Branch, all three 
having been summoned. They returned a little after 
dark and reported the fire well in hand. 

Friday noon, July 27, while drawing water for din- 
ner, I noticed a thread of smoke curling up from the 
notch between Paugus, Hedgehog and Passaconaway. 
Thinking it to be from a camp-fire, I dismissed it from 
my mind. After dinner, chancing to look again, I 
saw a column of white, brown, red, and black smoke 



A Chapter of Adventures 265 

rising, now of ominous size. No camp-fire was it, we 
knew nowl Larger and larger it grew, spreading in 
all directions. There was a gentle breeze blowing from 
the northwest, so that we were able to trace its rapid 
progress unmolested by smoke. Telephone calls flew 
back and forth, and from the hotel the news came that 
several of the Passaconaway men were on their way 
to aid Fred Howe, the Lumber Company's energetic 
young fire warden. Thinking ourselves not actually 
needed, but a little uneasy lest the wind should swing 
around to the south and send the fire roaring through 
the hackmatacks like an express train in uncomfortable 
proximity to our house, we thought it best to improve 
the time. Therefore, armed with bush- and grass- 
scythes, we cut down and burned all the bushes and 
grass for some distance around the cottage. 

Later in the afternoon several of us walked down 
to Mrs. Colbath's — the old post oflice — where we 
sat on the high bank and looked down the gorge 
through which the Mast Road passes. A cloud of 
thick white smoke hovered over the center of the con- 
flagration and large tributary curls could be seen twist- 
ing up from dozens of places. Here and there a curl 
would die out, as if the men had subdued it, but in gen- 
eral those columns seemed to grow larger, thicker and 
more numerous. Down in that hot valley, the Passa- 
conaway men, only a mere handful, were bravely work- 
ing. But at the time we knew it not. Considerable 
relief came to the little group of anxious watchers 
when the report came from the store that a train full 
of French Canadians was on its way up from Conway. 



266 Passaconaway 

Long after the lumberjacks were supposed to ar- 
rive the fire continued to spread with alarming rapidity. 
While all of us were gathered at the hotel in the even- 
ing, gazing upon the fascinating sight, an excited voice 
from the store 'phoned to Chief Povall, saying that 
all the male citizens of Passaconaway were wanted at 
the fire at daylight. 

At half-past three, in the cold dim light, my father 
and I arose. After breakfasting on fried ham and 
coffee, we took rations, canteens and hatchets and set 
out. Down to the now lonely little Jack Allen camp — 
for the old guide had been buried only the previous 
Monday — we tramped. Here we turned sharply 
southward into the woods, taking the main tote- 
road. While making this change in our course 
we noticed that the dense fog had already begun to 
lift. About half a mile more and it had all disap- 
peared. My, but didn't the morning air smell smoky! 
Just ahead was a cloud of smoke which hung low 
and thick in the damp atmosphere. Suddenly we came 
upon a long rustic table by the roadside, with a 
"cookee" clearing away and washing some greasy tin 
dishes. The men had just eaten breakfast. 

How smoky everything about us seemed ! Directly 
ahead there was a sharp turn in the rough road. Upon 
rounding it a scene of devastation unfolded itself be- 
fore us. The smoldering logs and charred trees even 
then, when fanned by the wind, glowed and smoked. A 
gentle gust turned an apparently dead stump into a bed 
of live coals, from which a tongue of flame shot six 
feet into the air. We heard a rustling and snapping 



A Chapter of Adventures 267 

almost above us; It was a blazing clump of little pop- 
lars, which until now somehow had escaped the flames. 
Now, however, this isolated little clump, an oasis in the 
black desert, was roaring and blazing. Crash! Down 
came some of the outer ones, now some more, and at 
length the remainder, with undermined and fire- 
gnawed roots, thundered to the ground, falling almost 
across the road a few feet ahead. On all sides were 
hundreds of charred upright shafts, the remains of 
formerly valuable trees, while prostrate on the ashy 
turf were many hundreds more, smoldering and smok- 
ing. Many had been felled to keep the fire from the 
tree tops but many more had fallen victim to the 
carelessness of campers. Here and there a fallen trunk 
was roaring furiously, as the wind drew through its 
hollow shell, and a tongue of flame might be seen blaz- 
ing out from its leeward end. The hollow inside was 
a mass of flame and as hot as a blast furnace. 

A rattling and clanking announced the approach of 
the fire-fighters. Standing majestically in the center 
of the ruin, upon a little eminence ahead, was Mr. 
■Schoppe, the superintendent of the camps, a noted fire- 
fighter. Just over the brow of this ridge he pointed out 
to us a long line of "Frenchmen," each armed with a 
shovel, advancing in a stooping posture. They were 
digging a trench around the inside of the ring of fire, 
one having already been dug around the outside. These 
trenches were as wide as the width of a shovel, and a 
few inches deep. Gradually the workmen approached 
us, leaving a fresh trench in their wake, as a spider 
spins his thread. The first man in the line broke the 



268 Passaconaway 

turf, the second loosened it, the third shoveled it off, 
and the succeeding ones each threw out a small shovel- 
ful at every step they took. By this method a trench 
was dug in a remarkably short time. 

As the fire was well under control our services were 
not needed, but we were extremely interested in study- 
ing the situation. On the extreme left, several smoky- 
faced boulders and a musical gurgling at their base an- 
nounced a brook. Between the black boulders and 
ashy dirt ran a little "smutty-faced" rill, bearing ashes, 
black twigs and soaked cinders. Down by this brook 
we found the only Passaconaway man, the others hav- 
ing wearily trudged home as soon as the Frenchmen 
arrived — Fred Howe, who had just returned from a 
couple of hours' sleep. He was directing a gang of 
men with buckets of water. They were dashing it on 
a spot where the fire had crossed the trench. Others 
were returning from different quarters to be directed 
to blazing stumps or logs after re-filling their pails. 

Lumberjacks kept arriving all the time; evidently all 
the camps had been ordered to send their men here 
on foot. I should judge that before we left there 
were nearly two hundred. After thoroughly exploring 
the battlefield from end to end, we retraced our steps 
and arrived home before noon. 

The fire, although it was now only a turf-fire, was 
not completely extinguished until a week later, when 
a hard shower thoroughly drenched out the last smoul- 
dering spark. It seems that the night before the fire 
broke out, two young Princeton University lads had 
left our valley and passed over this trail. It is thought 



A Chapter of Adventures 269 

that their Imperfectly extinguished camp-fire probably 
was the cause of the conflagration. 

On Saturday, August 16, 19 13, a cloud of smoke 
rising from the western side of Kancamagus completely 
blotted out that mountain. Later, the papers stated 
that a fire over in North Woodstock, on the opposite 
side of Kancamagus from us, had raged through the 
heart of that town. 

Last summer, just before we arrived, the north- 
ern side of Bald and the eastern end of Paugus were 
swept by flames. We were told that this was very 
beautiful to look at, but it cost the little town several 
thousand dollars before it was extinguished, and raised 
the tax-rate noticeably. Although blueberry bushes 
usually spring up where a forest-fire has raged, the 
cultivation of blueberries by starting forest-fires would 
be about as economical as burning down one's house 
to roast one's dinner, as in Charles Lamb's famous 
"Dissertation Upon Roast Pig." 

The Siege of Wolves 

Let me close this chapter of adventures with an ac- 
count of the famous siege of wolves which took place 
in 1830. Although the battle took place in Tam- 
worth, nevertheless it was from our mountains that 
the wolves descended upon that town, and to our moun- 
tain fastnesses the surviving wolves retreated after 
the battle. 

All this region, during the first third of the nine- 
teenth century, abounded in moose, deer, bears, wolves, 



270 Passaconaway 

and perhaps panthers. On the evening of Nov. 14 
couriers rode furiously through Tamworth and the 
surrounding towns, proclaiming that "countless num- 
bers" of wolves had come down from the Sandwich 
Range mountains and had established themselves in 
the woods on Marston Hill. All able-bodied males, 
from ten years old to eighty, were therefore summoned 
to report at Marston Hill by daylight on the following 
morning. 

Marston Hill was crowned by about twenty acres 
of woods, entirely surrounded by cleared land. Senti- 
nels were posted around the hill and numerous fires 
were lighted to prevent the wolves from effecting a 
return to the mountains. All through the night a 
continuous and hideous howling was kept up by the 
besieged wolves and answering howls came from the 
slopes of the great mountains. The shivering besieg- 
ers were regaled with food and hot coffee furnished 
by the women of the country-side throughout their long 
lonely watch. 

All night long reinforcements kept arriving. By 
daylight there were six hundred men and boys on the 
scene, armed with rifles, shotguns, pitchforks and clubs. 
A council of war was held and a plan of campaign 
agreed upon. General Quimby, of Sandwich, a war- 
seasoned veteran, was made commander-in-chief. The 
general immediately detailed a thin line of sharpshoot- 
ers to surround the hill, while the main body formed 
a strong line ten paces in the rear of the skirmishers. 
The sharpshooters then were commanded to advance 
towards the center, that is, towards the top of the hill. 



A Chapter of Adventures 271 

The firing began. The reports of the rifles and the 
unearthly howling of wolves made the welkin ring. 
The beleaguered animals, frenzied by the ring of flame 
and noise, and perhaps by wounds, made repeated at- 
tempts to break through "the thin red line," but all 
in vain. They were driven back into the woods, where 
they unceasingly continued running, making it diflicult 
for the marksmen to hit them. In about an hour the 
order was given for the main line to advance, which 
was done. 

Closing in on the center, the circular battle-line at 
last massed itself in a solid body on the hilltop, where, 
for the first time in sixteen hours, the troops raised 
their voices above a whisper, bursting out into wild 
hurrahs of victory. Joseph Gilman records that few 
of the besieged wolves escaped. But the historian of 
Carroll County maintains that the greater part of the 
frantic animals broke through the line of battle and 
escaped to the mountains whence they had come. Re- 
turning to the great rock on which the commander-in- 
chief had established headquarters, the victorious war- 
riors laid their trophies at the feet of their leader — 
four immense wolves — and once more gave thrice three 
thundering cheers. 

The little army then formed column, with the gen- 
eral, in a barouche, at its head. In the barouche also 
reposed the bodies of the slain wolves. After a rapid 
march of thirty-five minutes, the triumphant volun- 
teers entered the village and formed a hollow square 
in front of the hotel, the general, mounted on the top 
of his barouche, being in the center of the square. 



272 Passaconaway 

What a cheering and waving of handkerchiefs by 
the ladies, in windows and on balconies, there was! 
General Quimby then made a speech befitting the oc- 
casion, after which the thirsty soldiers stampeded to 
the bar to assuage the awful thirst engendered by 
twenty mortal hours of abstinence and warfare. '"^ 

^ See Joseph Oilman's article in the Boston Transcript in the early 
eighteen-thirties; Granite State Magazine, vol. IV, 160-3; Merrill: 
Hist, of Carroll County, 735; Osgood: White Mts., 346; etc. 



CHAPTER XV 

OLD JACK, GUIDE AND TRAPPER OF THE WHITE 
MOUNTAINS 

ONE moonlight night in late October some weary , 
hunters are trudging up the road, near the foot 
of the Chocorua Trail. The air is sharp, the breeze 
penetrating, and the steepled firs stand out in inky 
blackness against the sky, while the great silver moon 
causes the frosty road to sparkle. To-morrow they 
will be in the Promised Land of hunters, and, perhaps, 
by another night they already will have brought down 
a deer. The thought of it somewhat revives their 
spirits in spite of cold, hunger, and fatigue. 

A moonlit clearing opens before them, and the pale 
rays, falling aslant the few deserted buildings, gives 
the little cluster of houses a ghostly appearance. But 
on the right, in the French-roofed house, they will find 
a boon companion. Here they will spend the hours 
till dawn, in warmth and comfort. 

Upon the front door one of the hunters raps loud 
and long. But not a stir within. The old man is a 
sound sleeper and hard of hearing. He is at home, 
however, because a thin curl of smoke lazily ascends 
from the chimney. In desperation one of the youths 
mounts the porch roof, and, with the handle of his 

273 



274 Passaconaway 

belt-ax, beats a sharp tattoo on the wall. This per- 
formance is kept up for at least fifteen minutes until, 
after a series of unusually lusty blows, a voice from 
within calls: "Here! Here! Boysl Don't make so 
much noise. I heard you the first time." 

The veteran guide always makes it a point to exact 
from others due respect for his age and white hair, so 
on this occasion he takes his time about getting up and 
unlocking the door. "Squeak," goes the bolt, and the 
hardy old guide welcomes the hunters. Cordially he 
bids them "set close to the stove." Birch bark is stuffed 
in among the embers and soon the stove takes on a 
decidedly pinkish hue, while the venerable host places 
the coffee-pot on the stove and stows away the baggage 
of his uninvited guests. 

Soon the room glows with warmth and the now 
jovial boys are waiting with whetted appetites for 
the goodies which Jack Allen is cooking for them. 
The hungry trampers fall to, and Old Jack Is kept 
busy re-filling two spiders again and again, while he 
cheerily calls out from time to time, "Eat all you want, 
boys, there's plenty more"; which invitation does not 
go unheeded. At length he cannot force any more ' 
food upon them. Tilting back their chairs, the guests 
tell the veteran hunter of their proposed trip and he 
reciprocates by reeling off a score of yarns concerning 
bears and other wild animals. Then "good night" for 
a few hours' sleep. Light streaks presently appear 
in the east and the sky begins to display a ruddy glow. 
Soon Old Sol creeps over the rocky domes of the moun- 
tains. If they wish to camp at a certain place the next 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 275 

night the boys must start. Shouldering their packs, 
they thank their host and wend their way up the 
road. 

A surprise is in store for the trampers, however, 
for they have not gone more than a mile up the road 
when one, by chance, feeling in his haversack, finds it 
nearly empty. Examination reveals that of the three 
dozen eggs with which they started, only six remain. 
By counting up the number each has eaten, it is found 
that Old Jack, who so hospitably urged them to eat 
heartily, has served them their own rations. 

Such was Jack Allen — a bluff, hearty, jovial, fun- 
loving old man. In stature he was somewhat above 
medium height, square-shouldered and of powerful 
frame. His most striking feature was his flashing eye, 
coal-black, piercing and at times blazing with his fiery 
spirit; none but an unusual person could possess such 
an eye. When narrating his war experiences or remi- 
niscences of the trail, his eyes would flash and dance 
as if he were fighting his battles over again. "Men- 
tally, morally, and physically, he was the embodiment 
of rugged strength, yet he had a warm heart and gen- 
erous impulses which endeared him to his friends. Not 
only was he admired and respected, but deeply loved." ^ 
Jack possessed a keen sense of humor and a fertile 
imagination which, coupled with a willingness to tell 
stories and a forceful way of relating them, made him 
an interesting companion. 

Our hero, whose real name was not Jack, but James, 
first saw daylight in Sebec, Maine, in 1835. He served 

^ North Conway Reporter, August i, 1912, written by C. E. Beals. 



276 Passaconaway 

during the Civil War, followed the sea for over eight 
years, and, during the last forty years of his life, cast 
in his lot with the dwellers in the Albany Intervale. 
For several years he lived a hermit life on Bear Moun- 
tain. He looked after George B. James' timber lands 
and served Mr. James' successor in a similar capacity. 
During the last few years of his life he was in the 
employ of A. C. Kennett, who generously provided 
a nominal and congenial position for the old man. 

The foregoing is but the bare outline of a varied 
and strenuous career, which I shall endeavor to unfold 
by narrating in detail a few of its principal events. 
These incidents are almost without exception taken 
from the lips of the guide himself. In order that 
the other chapters of this book may be taken seriously, 
I must waive all responsibility for the truthfulness of 
these tales, but residents of the valley and other 
acquaintances of the old man can testify that these 
things are set down much as the veteran guide himself 
narrated them. 

"Curly Jack" — as he was called in his younger days 
— grew up to be a youth of powerful physique, widely 
famed for his strength and endurance; he became an 
ardent lover of boxing, wrestling, and other red- 
blooded recreations of the farm and lumber-camp. 
Often he modestly testified: "When I was young, I 
was considered the stoutest and best-looking man that 
ever stepped into the State of Maine." 

His first really exciting experience came when, as 
a lad in his teens, he went to a county fair in New 
Hampshire. These fairs have been described in song 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 277 

and story. All the people for forty miles around turn 
out on these holiday occasions. Such an one was this. 
Here and there a lad, or a group of boys, would be 
performing feats of strength before admiring lassies. 
Curly Jack was wending his way in and out among 
the chattering groups when a boastful voice fell upon 
his ear. Its owner was a young giant, looming up 
well over six feet, who was narrating his accomplish- 
ments to a bevy of beaming girls. Young Allen 
thought he would take a reef in the sails of this lago. 
Stepping up to the giant, he requested him to confine 
his conversation to the acre on which he stood and 
not, with his sonorous voice, disturb people in the 
neighboring fields. Little heed did the tall one pay to 
this unasked-for advice. Twice more the huge man 
was addressed, but the massive human mountain noted 
not young Allen's words. Considerably irritated. Jack 
thereupon poked him in the ribs and in no uncertain 
tones requested him to "Shut up !" but the big boy 
rattled on "all the smarter." "I hit him acrost the 
head hard enough to knock down a seven-foot ox," 
said Curly Jack, in telling the story, "and it never 
even jarred him. Looking on me as on a toad, he 
said, 'Young man, if you'd hurt me I'd have cuffed your 
ears.' " The baffled youngster slunk away, and ever 
after told this only in tones of the greatest respect for 
his pacific opponent. 

Many of the young men of northern New England 
and the Provinces go into lumber-camps during the 
winter. Numerous were Jack's stories of logging on 
the River Saint John, two of which I will recount. 



278 Passaconaway 

While many of the stories of his experiences seem quite 
improbable, others equally so are known to be true. 
Hence, in the following yarns there may perhaps be 
a grain of truth in a bushel of fiction. 

One winter the lumbermen moved into a new camp, 
leaving many of their spare tools at the old one. The 
cabin was steaming hot, but outside the wind whistled 
and roared, and the mercury was steadily falling. Sup- 
per over, the boys were lounging around when the 
door opened and the boss stepped in. "Boys," said 
he, "we've got to use them big chains to-morrow, so 
one or two of you must go fetch them." The camp 
was eight miles below and wolves had been in evi- 
dence recently. The lumberjacks, however, did not 
volunteer all at once ; on the contrary, silence reigned 
supreme ! Then up jumped Curly Jack, who, with 
skates in hand and clad in sheep-skin coat, departed. 
A thankful sigh of relief rippled around the room. 

The keen wind cut the skater's bronzed face like 
a knife. His powerful strokes soon carried him to the 
center of the moonlit ice sheet. At times, however, 
an ugly wind-cloud concealed the goddess of night, 
making Jack's progress more difficult. Bend after 
bend in the river rolled by. At times a promontory of 
fir and spruce would shelter him; at others the wind, 
sweeping for a mile across the ice sheet, would beat 
against his breast, holding him back. Onward he 
plowed and at length the spooky outlines of the 
moonlit camps were seen. Arriving at his destination, 
the young lumberman sat down to rest a moment be- 
fore starting on the return trip. Going back, he would 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 279 

have the wind at his back to help push him. 

He found the chains, which weighed fifty pounds 
each, and returned to the ice, where, with benumbed 
fingers, he put on his skates again. Shouldering his 
half dozen chains (of course a load of three hundred 
pounds was a mere nothing to a Hercules like Curly 
Jack), he struck out for home. Not more than two 
miles had been reeled off when a sound like the voice 
of a distant demon was heard above the clinking and 
crunch of his speeding skate-runners. Again, but more 
distinctly now, the sound fell upon his muffled ears. 
This time he clearly recognized it as the howling of 
wolves. Glancing over his shoulder. Jack saw his 
hungry pursuers about a mile behind him. At this 
particular point the river was exceedingly wide, and 
as far back as he could see the ice was black with a 
tossing, heaving, on-rushing wolf-pack. 

It was a sight to make an ordinary man's blood run 
cold. Not so with Curly Jack, however. Pulling his 
cap down tighter and clutching his chains with a vise- 
like grip, he simply "lengthened his throw" and flew 
on the faster. Now and then dismal howls were 
wafted down the wind to his ears, but he only skated 
the faster, until, with a final burst of speed, he skated 
up to the camp and, without stopping to remove his 
skates, plunged through the welcome door. 

Ever an ardent lover of quiet and solitude — con- 
sidering himself about the best company to be had — 
Jack erected a little hut on the bank of the River Saint 
John and spent a winter here in preference to living 
in the lumber-camp. One night, while enjoying the 



28o Passaconaway 

congenial society of his corn-cob and the red-hot stove, 
a wolf howl suddenly broke in upon his reveries. Again 
the howl was repeated; now two, three, and presently a 
score of tawny, white-fanged wolves had congregated 
outside his tiny cabin. The tall forests echoed and re- 
echoed with weird howls. Presently a scratching was 
heard, and Jack looked towards the sound only to see 
fall to the floor a strip of dried clay which had been 
chinked in between two logs. A dark nose was seen, 
next a pair of flashing eyes appeared and finally a cruel 
muzzle was thrust into the breech and then withdrawn. 
The awful howls outside increased until they were 
deafening and blood-curdling. Peering out through 
his tiny window, Jack saw — as it appeared to him — 
the ground literally covered with great timber wolves. 

Again a muzzle was thrust into the aperture, up to 
the eyes, and again it was withdrawn. Snatching up 
his hatchet, Jack concealed himself close by the narrow 
rift. Not long had he to wait before a tawny nose 
was thrust through, whereupon down went the hatchet! 
With a snarl of pain the wolf ran off. Jack repeated 
this performance again and again during the exciting 
hours of the long winter night. When the sun rose 
not a wolf was in sight. Snatching up a bushel-basket, 
the intrepid hermit filled and emptied it into the river 
twice before the floor was cleared of severed noses! 

There is just one more episode in his Maine career 
which I must mention. While in a lumber-camp a dis- 
pute arose in which the young Yankee found himself 
confronted by the entire camp crew. Hot words were 
ej^changed. Perceiving the impending strife, Jack 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 281 

stepped to the center of the room, crying, "Come on, 
boys, two or three of you at a time; I won't fight the 
whole camp at once!" The fiery youth gained his 
victory by such tactics, for no matter how angry his 
opponents might be, there were not any two or even 
three French Canadians who dared to commence the 
fray. There stood Curly Jack, the defiant conqueror 
of the whole camp. 

During the Civil War the name of "James Allen, 
Color Sergeant," is said to have appeared on the 
muster-roll of a regiment of Maine Volunteers. It 
was that of our friend. Curly Jack, now about twenty- 
six years old. According to his own modest admis- 
sion, he never failed to take the most daring risk and 
was always in the thickest of the fight. Like many 
another old soldier. Jack could have won the war 
single-handed had he been allowed his way, for he was 
a tireless, fearless fighter and a marksman of deadly 
accuracy. 

His regiment was present at the First Battle of 
Bull Run. Jack fought unflinchingly until the retreat 
began, when, having won his laurels as a fighter, he 
next proceeded to win his laurels as a sprinter. For 
miles he jogged along beside his Colonel, who was 
on horseback, literally keeping up a running conversa- 
tion, until at last, finding the pace too slow, he speeded 
up and left the horse far behind. The aged guide's 
eyes would twinkle and flash when he related how the 
"Colonel often complimented me on beating his horse 
back to Washington." 

Then, too, he loved to tell of being at Gettysburg. 



282 Passaconaway 

But here his duties as color sergeant greatly handi- 
capped him; had his superiors given him a rifle in 
place of a puny revolver the battle never would have 
lasted three whole days. "I was considered one of 
the first five shots in the Union Army," was his own 
blushing confession. 

At the Battle of the Wilderness, amid falling trees, 
blazing brush, and amidst unthinkable sufferings, the 
doughty color sergeant fought day after day. Well do 
I recall hearing the old guide, only a few weeks be- 
fore his death, describe the falling of burning trees 
on friend and foe, and of his seeing "Johnny Rebs" 
drop at the "bark" of his revolver. On the third day, 
amid clouds of smoke, a body of Confederate cavalry 
attacked the piece of woods which his shattered regi- 
ment was defending. Down upon the thinned ranks 
the Southern horsemen charged. One of the cavalry- 
men made a vicious downward cut at the Union stand- 
ard bearer. Instinctively Sergeant Allen put up the 
flag-staff to ward off the blow. The saber descended 
and sank deep into the wood. It is said that this 
gashed flag-staff and its tattered flag may be seen at 
the State House in Augusta. But it was not the wood 
alone which was gashed. The hand holding it was 
all but severed, and for the rest of his life Jack car- 
ried a mangled, scarred hand as a souvenir of this 
army experience, and as he lay in his casket the poor, 
crooked hand, resting upon the silent breast, bore mute 
yet eloquent testimony to a patriot's loyalty. Jack's 
original regiment was practically cut to pieces during 
the war, and the battle-scarred veteran was trans- 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 283 

ferred to another regiment. Besides the battles al- 
ready mentioned, he used to tell of taking part in 
several other important engagements. 

After the war he sailed from Boston and followed 
the sea for some eight years. Practically nothing is 
known of this part of his career and he seldom alluded 
to it. 

Many years after the war, some members of a 
prominent gun-club used to engage Jack during the 
hunting-seasons. Just before the opening of a cer- 
tain season, some of the members wrote to the old 
guide offering him a modern automatic rifle if he would 
make good his claims of marksmanship, which he had 
often made. After reading the letter, he took his "old 
bone-breaker" from its pegs, and paced off across the 
field opposite his house an even quarter of a mile. 
Here he found a stump. Standing a few feet off, 
and taking careful aim, he fired. Chips flew from the 
stump. A carpenter with a rule could not have found 
the center more accurately than did Old Jack's bullet. 

That evening the city men arrived. Strapped to one 
of the suitcases was a new, high-power repeating rifle. 
The gunners did not arrive until dusk, so there was 
no time to win the prize that night. But promptly 
after breakfast next morning their spokesman, holding 
up the rifle before Allen's admiring eyes, said: "Prove 
to us your claim of being one of the best shots in the 
Union Army and this is yours." Old Jack examined 
the mechanism a minute, then threw a cartridge into 
the breech. Standing in his doorway, he indicated his 
intended mark, brought the rifle to his shoulder, and. 



284 Passaconaway 

taking no aim at all, fired, exclaiming, "Guess I hit 
it!" He led the men to the stump and there, sure 
enough, was the bullet-hole. The hunters promptly 
turned over to him the handsome weapon which, al- 
though he seldom used it, he prized highly. 

Time and again when asked why he preferred to 
hunt with his old gun he replied: "Why should a man 
hunt squirrels with a cannon or a Gatling-gun ?" He 
was not very enthusiastic over modern rifles, thinking 
them too powerful or too complex for ordinary use. 
One day a youth asked Old Jack's opinion concerning 
a rifle the former had just purchased. Old Jack re- 
plied: "It might be all right for some, but I shouldn't 
like it." 

About 1873 Allen came into our valley. From a 
humble driver of oxen, he gradually evolved into "the 
Guide and Trapper of the White Mountains," to use 
his own words. After a lonely existence for sev- 
eral years on the slopes of Bear Mountain, he yearned 
for the companionship of his fellow-men. He became 
the very life of the community and never was contented 
unless starting some joke. 

He was a "jack-of-all-trades" and good at all. 
Hunting, fishing and lumbering were his chief occu- 
pations, but anything he turned his hand to he could 
do skilfully. Summers, he helped with the haying and 
looked after his garden; winters, he trapped, hunted 
and cut ice. Each season he filled every spare cubic 
inch of his cabin with wood before getting snowed in. 

One summer, during haying-time, he was helping 
a farmer. Deacon Annis. Mr. Annis was a devout 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 285 

Christian, while Old Jack, I am sorry to say, occa- 
sionally lapsed into profanity. The farm-hands sat 
down with the family to breakfast. The deacon closed 
his eyes and, with bowed head, started to pray. Al- 
len's eyes wandered about until they rested on some 
object out of doors. On and on prayed Mr. Annis, 
until suddenly the impatient voice of Old Jack irrev- 
erently interrupted: "For God's sake, Joe, cut it short; 
the cows are in your garden!" Whereupon the pious 
farmer remarked: "Oh, Jack, you are an awful man, 
amen!" Then all rushed out to drive off the cattle- 
Possessing a keen sense of humor, nevertheless he 
had his troubles and they were as tragical to him as 
ours are to us, and perhaps more so. Most of the 
time, devoid of money, he was forced to go hunting 
for a living. So long as he had ammunition he wor- 
ried little. The guide seemed to have been born a 
hunter, as some are born soldiers, sailors, etc. Often, 
starting for the woods, he would say: "I guess I'll go 
out and get a piece of meat." The wilderness was 
his market where food was to be bought with a charge 
of powder. It sorely tried him even to think of be- 
ing deprived of venison the greater part of the year 
by "game laws." I suspect, however, that, much as 
he fretted about it, the paper law was not an effectual 
barrier and could not prevent the deer from jumping 
into his fry-pan. He regarded game-wardens with in- 
tense loathing. 

While scouring the woods one day in search of game, 
he chanced upon a warden. Recognizing the buckskin- 
clad hunter, the warden demanded his hunting-license. 



286 Passaconaway 

Jack's eyes shot fire as he roared out: "My license is 
in my gun barrel!" Mr. Warden made a precipitous 
exit. 

One cold morning a man walked into the guide's 
cabin and sat down. Old Jack had built a fire in the 
fireplace. The guest explained that he was a tramper 
from the other side of the mountain (Paugus) who 
wanted to rest and get warm before proceeding 
further. As noon approached, Old Jack invited his 
guest to "have a bite before setting out." When the 
guest hesitated, Jack intimated that he intended to 
serve venison. Upon this, the stranger accepted the 
invitation. The simple meal at an end, the unknown 
unbuttoned his coat and there shone a warden's badge. 
Allen was informed that he was under arrest. Old 
Jack stubbornly maintained, however, that the warden 
could not prove who had shot the deer and therefore 
refused to consider himself under arrest. On the other 
hand, the warden, a small man, pointed out that the 
possession of venison in closed season was sufficient 
evidence. Jack could stand it no longer. Picking up 
the warden bodily, he deposited his ungrateful guest 
none too gently in the fireplace. Nor did he heed the 
latter's cries for mercy until the promise had been ex- 
tracted that the warden would neither report nor trou- 
ble him again. 

A man with a gun one afternoon knocked at Jack's 
door. The old guide welcomed the stranger heartily 
and insisted that he should stay to supper. At the 
table the host apologized for not serving fresh meat, 
but promised his guest that, if he would remain over 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 287 

night, he should have v^enison for breakfast. The in- 
nocent-looking hunter, who was in reality a game 
warden, accepted, inwardly rejoicing over an oppor- 
tunity to secure so easily incriminating evidence. In 
the gray dusk of early morn two fine deer came into the 
yard. "You take that one and I'll take the other," 
whispered Old Jack. "All ready, — fire !" Jack 
brought down his animal, but the guest did not shoot. 
For the first time suspecting the real character of his 
visitor, the irate veteran leveled his repeating rifle at 
the latter, roaring, "Shoot, or I will!" The warden 
fired into the mist, and though not intending to kill the 
deer, was so frightened that he actually shot it. Need- 
less to say there was no arrest made in this case. 

One warden was a real bugbear to him. Try as 
he might, he could not seem to shake off this pest. 
Whenever or wherever he went, this ofl'icious official 
seemed to know of it. Desperation drove Old Jack 
to borrow a bear-trap from a neighbor. Finding out 
the warden's daily route, he set his trap accordingly, 
placing it in the youngster's path. Next morning Mr. 
Warden experienced the pleasure of feeling two huge 
jaws close upon his shins. Fortunately for the victim, 
Old Jack had padded the teeth so that the jaws, al- 
though holding the victim in a viselike grip, did not 
penetrate the flesh. That the youth might have plenty 
of time to think, the guide waited until almost dark 
before visiting the trap. When he did arrive, he 
found that his ruse had worked. The victim was pale 
and penitent. On seeing the other's plight. Old Jack 
exclaimed: "I set that trap for a bear and caught a 



2 88 Passaconaway 

darned skunk!" Then he helped the lad home. The 
warden was a changed man; he realized that promo- 
tion gained by jailing a white-haired old man was likely 
to prove a pretty expensive promotion. Jack was not 
again molested by this fellow, who shortly after 
resigned. 

For all Old Jack delighted in drawing the long bow 
concerning his hunting trips, he was in reality one 
of the best hunters in the state. Not until age began 
to prey upon him was his table devoid of game. He 
seemed to be more fortunate than anybody else. For 
days at a time he would be the only member of a 
party to bring in game. Game seemed to run right 
within his range. Yet he never wasted a particle, or 
killed simply for the fun of killing. 

Of his first day's hunting-trip in the Albany Valley 
he used to tell thus : The river was high and several 
times he was forced to ford it. While effecting one 
of these crossings with his game — three partridges, 
six squirrels, a quail, a coon, four rabbits and a fox — 
a flock of geese flew over. Firing, he was gladdened 
by the sight of four tumbling into the river. These he 
secured. But just then the trout were running plenti- 
fully and they filled his trousers so full that, upon 
reaching the shallow water, a button flew off and killed 
a mink. By tying the trousers tightly around his ankles 
he was able to carry the trout home, so that with the 
game that he had shot he could live like a prince for 
many a day. 

Once when returning from an unsuccessful hunt on 
Paugus, Old Jack discovered a deer following on the 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 289 

same path. He went on down the trail, towards home, 
and the unsuspecting deer kept on following. This 
performance continued until the road in front of the 
guide's house was reached. Concealing himself, he 
awaited the advent of his prey. Haughtily the buck 
came on and then Old Jack fired. "I guess the deer 
had a fit!" he was wont to exclaim at this juncture 
of the story. The hunter had only to drag the carcass 
a few remaining rods to his shed. He always did be- 
lieve in conserving his energies, in making his head 
save his heels 1 

For a time the buildings on the Hill Farm were un- 
occupied. This farm, between the former Passacona- 
way House and Mr. Kennett's bungalow, is so situated 
that from the guide's kitchen the east and west win- 
dows of the farmhouse are in one or two cases in 
direct line. While eating breakfast one morning, Old 
Jack saw a reddish-brown animal pass the window on 
the farther side of the house. Then it was gone. 
Jack took "Old Bone-breaker" and, sitting in the open 
door, waited; it seemed ages, but by and by an ani- 
mal's body came into his zone of vision. Drawing bead 
carefully, he blazed away. When the smoke had 
cleared, both windows were seen to be shattered, but 
no animal was anywhere to be seen. The quarter mile 
between the two houses flew under Old Jack's racing 
feet. There by the Hill House lay the deer kicking 
in its death-throes and Old Jack speedily put it out of 
misery. 

There was at the lumber store, so a story runs, a 
long-barreled gun which the veteran longed to pes- 



290 Passaconaway 

sess. Although the price was moderate, it might just 
as well have been in the thousands. One wintry morn- 
ing, while caressing this gun — which he feared he prob- 
ably never would possess — a deer came into sight, 
bounding about in the light snow, a long distance from 
the rear of the store. Allen at once struck a bar- 
gain with the clerk, offering the bounding deer in ex- 
change for the gun. The offer was accepted. The 
old hunter stepped to the back platform and fired. 
Noon saw him carrying the long-desired firearm home. 

Old Jack was very pronounced in his likes and dis- 
likes and would persist in using one gun, one ax, or 
one fish-pole, and never use others even when he had 
them. I am now the proud possessor of his favorite 
fish-pole, with its home-made reel. This was pre- 
sented to me by his son after the old guide's death. 
His pet rifle was "Old Bone-breaker," which he claimed 
never failed to kill. But as he got older he could not 
carry this heavy firearm, which shot a half-inch ball, so 
he became attached to a smaller rifle. This, his 30-30 
Winchester, is the one he holds in the picture. He 
loved this rifle like an old friend and would not have 
traded it for a life of luxury and ease. Then, too, it 
was a rifle with a record to be proud of. Old Jack 
claimed that it had slain sixty-six deer and over twenty 
bears — which, in consideration of the game he shot 
in the course of a season, was not impossible. No 
wonder he cherished such a rifle! 

One spring Jack and his son were fishing through 
the somewhat rotten ice on Church's Pond. The be- 
loved rifle was lying beside them. Suddenly the ice 




Photo by Mr. Hunt 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 291 

gave way, and the fishermen found themselves splash- 
ing about in the pond. The rifle had sunk immediately. 
Old Jack was nearly disconsolate, but he stuck a pole 
into the mud near the place where his trusty gun had 
disappeared. Just as soon as the pond was free from 
ice, Jack poled the raft out to this buoy. Repeatedly 
he grappled for the rifle and at length succeeded in 
rescuing his precious weapon from its muddy bed. He 
bore it home in triumph and tenderly nursed and oiled 
it, day by day, until its natural complexion had re- 
turned. Apparently "Old Trusty" was none the worse 
for its long cold bath, and Old Jack would use no 
other as long as he lived. 

His son tells how he and his father discovered the 
tracks of a huge bear under the brow of Green's Cliff. 
All day they followed the trail. At nightfall they 
camped on Bear Mountain. The second day the bear 
led them a long chase along the sides of Paugus, 
Hedgehog, Potash and Tripyramid. Night saw them 
sleeping high up on the slopes of Tripyramid, beside 
some fresh tracks. At daybreak they set out again. 
Following a tiny brook-bed, they found tracks exceed- 
ingly fresh. Under the very summit the aged father's 
keen eyes spied a shaggy animal close to a huge 
boulder. His beloved Winchester clicked, and the 
bear, shot behind the ear, dropped dead. This rifle 
is now the property of the author's father, having been 
bought by him after the old guide's death. 

While Old Jack was helping cut the hotel's supply 
of ice, a cake of unusual size was reached. Two of 
the younger men could not budge it. The powerful 



292 Passaconaway 

Allen braced himself, and in all seriousness addressed 
the others thus: "You three men take that side and 
I'll take this." 

One of Allen's keenest delights was to guide 
parties, especially schoolma'ams. He was not only 
handsomely rewarded, but loved to play the hero in 
their eyes. Many a time he marched up the road with 
a dozen or so flocking about him, listening breathlessly 
to his stories of hand-to-hand victories over blood- 
thirsty beasts. If game or excitement were lacking, 
he would manage to "start something." His subtle 
sense of humor never permitted a minute to go to 
waste. He would either scare his party half to death 
or play some practical joke which never failed to pro- 
duce a laugh. 

Some "city folks," having vainly searched the woods 
for the sight of a deer, stopped before the guide's 
house and inquired of him if there were any deer in 
that part of the state. "Deer!" roared Old Jack. 
"There goes one now!" Instinctively they faced about 
to look in the direction indicated by his finger, but 
in vain. "His tail disappeared behind that brushy pine 
just as you turned round," explained the guide. 

Upon receiving news that some youngsters were 
coming up to camp with him, the aged guide went out in 
search of game. But for once he was forced to return 
empty-handed. In due season the young chaps were 
deposited at his door by the stage-driver. The lads' 
mouths were watering for a game dinner. Horrors! 
What sort of a guide would this old man be if he 
could offer no game? Bringing in three steaming plat- 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 293 

ters, he exclaimed: "Now, boys, we have here three 
kinds of meat, venison, bear, and salt pork; take either 
one or all three, and don't be afraid to eat hearty." 
But no matter from which platter the unsuspecting 
lads helped themselves, in reality they partook of the 
meat which, under Jewish law, is forbidden food, for 
the meat was all salt pork, cooked in three of the many 
different ways in which the old guide knew how to 
serve it. The city fellows never suspected the deceit. 

A party which was going up to camp on Owl Cliff 
had an exceptionally large amount of baggage, and 
Old Jack, as guide, was supposed to carry it all. It 
does seem as though some people hire a guide in place 
of a truck-horse ! Weighted down with a crushing 
load and with dozens of things dangling from pack, 
belt, rifle and climbing-stick, the aged guide had to 
pick his way carefully and for once lagged behind 
his party. To hurry him up, a fresh little snob play- 
fully struck him a resounding crack across the legs 
with a switch. As quick as lightning the luggage was 
on the ground, and, with flashing eyes, the patriarch 
refused to proceed another step. After the lad had 
apologized and the incensed guide had cooled off some- 
what, he was prevailed upon to continue. But he did 
not forget the episode and stored up his revenge until 
a more opportune time. 

When darkness closed in upon their cozy little camp 
that evening the wind tossed the frosty trees and they 
snapped and cracked. The youngsters, unaccustomed 
to this life, became uneasy. They huddled close 
around the fire and Old Jack added to their nervous- 



294 Passaconaway 

ness by rehearsing some terrible adventures. Ever 
and anon he gazed out into the darkness, and, listen- 
ing until the wind snapped the trees again, would re- 
mark in a hoarse whisper: "Bears coming up through 
the woods, boys." Whereupon he would commence 
another thriller. Having drawn them close to the 
glowing embers, Old Jack suggested that, before turn- 
ing in, they should enjoy some roasted eggs. None 
of them had ever eaten any roasted eggs, but all en- 
thusiastically ratified the guide's proposal. The old 
joker raked out some red-hot coals and, placing a 
dozen eggs in the hottest part, covered them over. 
Then, as if seeking something in the tent, he left the 
group. No sooner had the folds of the tent-door 
closed behind him than, "Bang! bang! pop, pop, pop, 
pop!" went the eggs, while an ash-covered sticky sub- 
stance flew in all directions, plastering the boys com- 
pletely. A chuckle of smothered laughter came from 
the tent. Old Jack was having his revenge. There 
was not a man in the town who was the guide's equal 
in playing tricks. 

During his life in our valley he resided on Bear 
Mountain, in the French-roofed house at the foot of 
the Great Intervale, in the Carrigain House where he 
took boarders, in the cottage near Kennett's bungalow, 
and one winter (1911-1912) in the little Post Office 
building opposite the hotel. 

Once when game was scarce Old Jack had hard 
work to live up to his reputation of being the "guide 
and trapper of the White Mountains," which he felt 
implied that he must get more game than anybody else. 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 295 

He trapped a mink, however, and mink are now rare 
in our valley. This little creature he "carried about 
in his overalls pocket until the hair wore off" (so 
the natives claim). Each morning he would hail 
passers-by, and, pulling the mink out of his pocket, he 
would exclaim, "I've got a mink this morning." 

Deep in the recesses of one of his pockets an old- 
fashioned silver watch used to nestle. This was al- 
most as large as a coffee cup. He prized this ancient 
time-piece and, although it was not what one might 
truthfully call an expensive chronometer, he often pro- 
duced it and read the time, especially in the presence 
of admiring strangers. He came into possession of 
this watch when he was a stripling in Maine. A few 
days later he was invited to a New England harvest 
celebration, with cider and nuts among the attractions. 
Nuts were passed around uncracked, and tools were 
then furnished with which to crack them. Jack was 
near the end of the line, and the supply of tools had 
long since given out before reaching him, so he was left 
to his own resources. Pulling out the watch, he cracked 
his nuts with it to the tune of "Ping! Ping! Ping!" 
(as he used to express it). 

One of Jack's pronounced characteristics was his 
frankness. He has often been heard to say to his 
guests, if he considered that they were staying too 
late, "Well, good-by, boys; come in again soon." 
With that he would open the door and start to light 
their way out; even before they had made the slight- 
est move to leave. He also would allow no trifling 
with him. While bending over a campfire, a friend, 



296 Passaconaway 

who suddenly and quietly had come up, greeted him 
with a sound spank on what Dr. Talmage used to call 
"the God-ordained spot," and a hearty "Good-morning, 

Mr. Allen!" Like a flash his fist flew past M 's 

face, missing it by a hair. "I never allow anybody 
to lay a hand on me," Old Jack snapped out to his 
companion, who was an old acquaintance and whom 
he would not have hurt for the world. He would stand 
no fooling. 

He was one of the "tallest" story-tellers that ever 
lived, but no matter how apocryphal his tales, no one 
cared or dared to smile or in any way display a doubt 
while in his presence as to the truth of these yarns. 

While cutting ice, a would-be joker said: "Say, Mr. 
Allen, what are you putting the ice in there now for, 
when it is so long to summer? Ain't you afraid it 
will get wormy?" A knowing smile spread over his 
venerable face as the patriarch replied: "Wormy! 
no, sonny, mountain ice doesn't get wormy!" 

One time, however, a neighbor got the better of 

him. While P was plastering some cement in a 

mold at the base of a beam which supported the barn 
floor, Old Jack's shadow darkened the doorway. 

"Good-morning, Mr. P . What are you doing 

with the mud?" "This isn't mud, Jack; it's cement," 
replied the worker. "Well, to common folks mud and 
cement appear to look a pile alike. Do you expect 
that mud to hold up your barn floor?" Here the 
younger man had him, so he replied: "Mr. Allen, if 
you will bring your sledge-hammer down here in a 
week I will give you leave to knock my cement down 



Old Jack, Guide and Trapper 297 

and erect a support to your liking." A week later, 
almost to the hour, saw Jack triumphantly marching 
down towards the hotel with his hammer. Try as he 
might, however, his resounding blows made not the 
slightest impression, and at length, breathing heavily, 
he stopped to gaze upon the crackless "mud" in amaze- 
ment. 

A few years before his death Old Jack was taken 
for his first automobile ride. Before he came into 
sight we could hear the wildest hooting and scream- 
ing. When, going at furious speed, the auto spun into 
sight, there was Curly Jack standing upright, tightly 
clutching the rod across the back of the front seat, 
with his long white locks standing out horizontally 
and his ruddy cheeks aglow. Passing us, with howls 
of glee, his eyes sparkled and he jovially waved his 
broad-brimmed hat. He was having the time of his 
life. "I felt as if I was shot out of a cannon through 
a Christmas tree," was his terse description of the 
mad dash along the tree-fringed road. He could not 
be induced ever to take another ride, however. 
"Enough is enough," was his watch-word. 

One of the crowning adventures of his life was when 
he left his mountain hut for a visit to his son in 
Dover and to Boston from which he once had 
sailed. Very late in life this trip was taken, and many 
of his tales from that time on were concerning the 
unbearable features of city life. He never tired of 
depicting the horrors of civilization. A mill-owner 
took Mr. Allen through his plant and after that the 
guide was disgusted with city life. "Why, the girls' 



298 Passaconaway 

faces ill that mill were as white as a sheet." He was 
irritated by the harsh noises, could not sleep nights, 
and experienced a stifling sensation, as if not getting 
enough pure air; in short, he was thoroughly un- 
comfortable. 

For forty years Old Jack — "The Guide and Trap- 
per of the White Mountains" — had not been in a 
city, so his son took him to Boston. All was so dif- 
ferent that the modern Rip Van Winkle was sadly 
disappointed. The old streets and buildings were not 
there, and he could not go down a street without being 
bumped into or trampled on — streets which in his youth 
he might walk down with elbows extended and en- 
counter no jostling. Often he remarked: "I don't see 
what they all do there or where they stay," He ex- 
perienced one ray of pleasure, however, when he saw 
a "blue-coat nip a buzz-car" (auto) because it did not 
wait for the pedestrians to pass. 

While riding in a trolley-car he was delighted until 
it began to rock, then he promptly jumped off. 

His son persuaded him to take an elevator en route 
to the top of a skyscraper. The "lift" had reached 
only the second story when the old guide demanded to 
be let out, remarking: "I will elevate myself up the 
rest of the way." He climbed the remaining dozen 
or so flights without a murmur. Upon gaining the roof 
he gazed about, then having satisfied his curiosity 
he settled down as if to stay there. His son asked 
if he was not ready to go down, to which Old Jack 
replied: "I am going to wait here and hear the angels 
sing." Such were the eyes through which he viewed 



Old Jack, Guide and Trappe?- 299 

civilization. 

During the winter of 1911-1912, the old g^ide be- 
came severely ill from cancer of the intestines. He 
went to Dover, where he was tenderly cared for, but 
he suffered terribly. Everything that medical science 
could do, was done. Temporary relief from pain be- 
ing obtained, the old mountaineer longed to get back 
to Passaconaway. He was seriously ill, but stoically 
bore the pain. No man ever was happier than was 
he when he kindled the fire once more in the little cozy 
mountain cottage at Passaconaway. He was home 
again — home to die. 

A week before he passed away we saw him, with 
shouldered rifle, walking down the Mast Road. Upon 
our greeting him he stated that he had been up to the 
top of Mt. Passaconaway before breakfast. This sum- 
mer he was seen carrying whole tree trunks on his 
shoulder to be sawed and split for his next winter's 
fuel. He walked down to the post ofllice two days 
before his death, and on his last morning, though suf- 
fering agonies from the disease which was rapidly sap- 
ping his life, he walked to the store; from here medical 
aid was summoned, but too late. That afternoon, 
Saturday, July 20, 19 12, he passed away. 

On Monday following many of us in the intervale 
turned out to gather wild flowers, evergreens and fir 
boughs. Loving hands transformed the little school- 
house into a veritable bower of beauty, evergreens 
and wild flowers completely covering black-boards and 
bare walls. The aged guide could not have imagined 
a more beautiful and appropriate and satisfying set- 



^oo Passaconaway 

ting for his funeral service. 

In the afternoon, after a prayer, his body was taken 
from the little house which had been his home and 
carried to the schoolhouse. The entire community 
turned out for the last earthly expression of affection, 
and even strangers were deeply moved by such a spon- 
taneous outpouring of unfeigned love. After a brief 
and touching service, conducted by clergymen friends 
of Old Jack from New York and Chicago, all formed 
in procession and marched across the street to the little 
(Russell) cemetery, where the casket was lowered to 
its last resting place. Nothing could be more beau- 
tifully impressive than this summer afternoon scene 
in the tiny grave-yard, surrounded by his beloved 
mountains, where stood the sorrowing group of sin- 
cere friends with bared heads, gazing reverently upon 
the flag-covered casket in which reposed the body of 
their comrade, fellow-citizen and friend. 

Thus ended the life of one who really belonged to 
an earlier type of men. He was of that breed who 
braved the dangers of the wilderness to help lay the 
foundation of a great nation. Few indeed are these 
'*oldtimers" remaining to-day. 

There was a delightful out-of-door-ness about this 
man that was infectious and gratifying. Bluff, hearty, 
brave, loyal, of pronounced convictions and utter frank- 
ness, a magnetic sort of a sunbeam was he. His pass- 
ing took from the valley its most picturesque person- 
ality, and the Passaconaway Intervale does not seem 
quite the same without "dear Old Jack Allen" to wel- 
come us. 



CHAPTER XVI 

FORTY BELOW ZERO IN PASSACONA WAY-LAND 

C-O-N-W-A-Y ! C-O-N-W-A-Y ! " Then the 
red-faced conductor slammed the door and 
disappeared into the next car ahead. Enveloping our- 
selves in heavy sheepskin-lined coats, we snatched up 
our bags and made our way to the platform. Low 
clouds hung cold and leaden over Chocorua's snow- 
capped tooth and the gaunt, leafless forests at its foot. 
The little station was approaching. Never had I seen 
it so thronged and so busily humming with excitement 
as to-day. As the train stopped, the crowd surged 
down the platform and in the midst — almost suffo- 
cated — was a jolly red-coated figure, a blue-hooded 
Santa Claus. 

My chum and I were the only passengers getting off 
at Conway, and we claimed as ours the trunk which 
banged down upon the waiting truck. We were met 
by a swarthy, thin-faced, muscular man bundled up 
in a heavy red sweater. It was the stage-driver, who, 
after exchanging greetings, repaired to the livery sta- 
ble for his mail-coach. While waiting for our Jehu 
to reappear, we took off our shoes and encased our 
nether extremities in huge "felts" which we had 
brought with us, and which are the common winter 
foot-gear in this region. The next few minutes we 

301 



302 Passaconaway 

stumped about the waiting-room of the station, clum- 
sily thumping our heavy heels and toes. Didn't we feel 
foolish and awkward, though ! An elephant on roller- 
skates was graceful as compared to the way we felt, 
for it was the first time we had ever worn such foot- 
gear. Our first attempts to navigate in these heavy 
boots must certainly have been amusing to the farmers, 
lounging about in the station, but they courteously con- 
cealed their mirth from our eyes. 

A "Who-o-o-a" announced the return of our driver, 
so we loaded our baggage into the mail-pung. The 
driver of the tri-weekly mail-stage from Passaconaway 
to Conway is entrusted by the few inhabitants of the 
Albany Intervale with all their shopping errands. 
Hence, at Christmas-time, his function is that of an 
assistant Santa Claus. Fond parents smilingly had 
whispered mysterious secrets into his ear on his way 
down, and now, piled high in the pung, were dozens 
of presents, on top of all of which a girl's sled was 
strapped. We pushed our baggage in among the ex- 
press parcels, and, finding a narrow valley between 
two small mountains of packages, we crawled into it 
and found ourselves on the second seat, where we 
bundled up in anticipation of the sixteen-mile ride up 
into the wintry sky. The driver had donned a shaggy 
bearskin coat, which bade defiance to the marrow-chil- 
ling nor' wester which was bearing down upon us. 
There was a thick crust on the eight inches of snow. 
The leaden heavens threatened to pour out their win- 
try wrath upon us at any moment. 

Gliding up the street on our way to the Con- 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 303 

way post office, we passed dozens of merrily jingling 
sleighs. The people of the whole country-side seemed 
to be here, doing their Christmas shopping. After a 
few moments' halt at the post office, we proceeded 
to the store, where we found awaiting us our provi- 
sions, which we had ordered ahead. Then, all errands 
being finished, our horses turned their heads homeward 
and we two passengers settled down to the stern busi- 
ness of life. 

Parcels to right of us, 
Bundles to left of us, 
Boxes in front of us, 
Wedged us in snugly. 

Swiftly down the road we slipped, past the ruins 
of the chair-factory, past the ball-field, now mourn- 
fully draped in a white pall, and through the covered 
bridge over the Swift we plunged. On our right and 
ahead of us were the gray, indistinct forms of Kear- 
sarge, Moat and the far-off Presidential Range, while 
on our left was Chocorua, with its tiny, solitary Peak 
House at the base of its jagged horn. Along the snow- 
clad meadows and up to Potter's Farm we flew; just 
north of this farm we skidded around the corner, took 
the road to Passaconaway and plunged in among sweet- 
scented spruces, pines and hemlocks. 

The Passaconaway Road is the only highway lead- 
ing to our little valley. It runs almost directly west, 
skirting the Swift River. Scarcely had we entered 
upon this road when a snowflake fell upon my shoul- 
der, then another and another. Small, but hard and 



304 Passaconaway 

thick, no feathers these, they were more icy, and ap- 
peared like bird-shot. A few minutes only and we 
were buried in a hissing cloud of whirling, spinning 
and tumbling snow. Sometimes with bowed heads and 
sometimes with the side of our faces to the snow-laden 
gale, we bravely fronted the blizzard. These snow 
"pebbles," driving into our faces, cut and stung like 
knife-blades. 

After facing the keen air some four or five miles, 
we became ravenously hungry. Opening our lunch- 
boxes, I offered the driver a large, rosy-cheeked ap- 
ple, which he accepted. I noticed that he did not seem 
to eat it very rapidly. On biting into another apple 
myself, I found it to be frozen as hard as a rock. 
We attempted a few pork chops. Evidently the cold- 
storage man had been at work, for they were frozen 
stiff. Only the boiled eggs and sandwiches were edi- 
ble and they seemed somewhat ossified. Having sat- 
isfied our hunger, I reached for the bottle of hot 
coffee which I had carefully stowed away in my sheep- 
skin coat. What was my surprise and disappointment 
to find that I pulled out only the neck and upper half 
of the bottle. The other half zealously encircled a 
solid core of coffee-ice still remaining in the huge 
pocket. 

We tucked away our lunches and settled down for 
the bitter reality of ten more miles. Let "T. R." talk 
about "the strenuous life" if he wishes. We certainly 
lived it that afternoon. We were tucked in so tightly 
that only with the greatest difliculty could we move, and 
we were forced to maintain this cramped position for 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 305 

four mortal hours in the face of a biting blizzard. For 
it was a blizzard, in good earnest. The swirling snow- 
clouds were so thick that we could not see fifty feet 
in any direction. 

Ascending the height at Colby Chase's house, we 
were greeted with a friendly "Hello" from an unseen 
figure. Then a merry farmer came out to get his 
mail, jocularly saying: "Snowed out, you be." "Why 
out?" "Because if you were in the house you'd be 
snowed in." Having enlightened us as to our status, 
he disappeared in the direction of the house, bearing 
the welcome newspapers and a letter or two. 

Over the roaring Swift we sped, through the "Half 
Way Bridge," and then past the Ham Farm at the 
foot of Spruce Hill. This hill is one of the hardest 
hills in the state for autoists and is the bane of our val- 
ley. It is a long uphill pull of a mile or more. In places 
where the road narrowed we could just make out the 
steep embankment, plunging dizzily down to the river 
far below. At the very top of Spruce Hill we reached 
the "Devil's Jump." I described it faithfully to my 
chum Bob — how, on a summer day, one can stand here 
and, looking across to the opposite bank of the river, 
behold a sheer precipice, down which, with perfect 
ease, one might coast in a fry-pan, though to accom- 
plish such a feat in safety none but his traditional 
Satanic Majesty would be able. Of course I had to 
tell Bob about the mistake I made when a tiny young- 
ster. One year, when I was four years old, my par- 
ents were on their way up to enjoy their annual 
summering in Passaconaway-land. Reaching the top 



3o6 Passaconaway 

of Spruce Hill, we all got out of the mountain-wagon 
(for the automobile had not yet penetrated our wil- 
derness in those days) to view the Devil's Jump. 
After gazing across at the frightful ledges, and peer- 
ing down the steep incline to the river so far below 
us, my parents returned to the wagon, while I lingered. 
They called, I refused to come. They inquired the 
reason. "I want to see the Devil jump. When is 
the Devil going to jump?" was my reply. But all the 
scenic wonders at the Devil's Jump had to be taken 
on faith by Bob on this December day, for not a thing 
could be seen except blinding snow-swirls. 

Clouds of steam rose continuously from the bodies 
of the toiling horses as they pressed onward. 
"Hooooo! Hooo! Hu! Hooo!" suddenly shrieked 
something a few rods ahead. Coming, as it did, out 
of the depths of the wilderness, it sounded uncanny and 
almost supernatural. But the next instant the mystery 
was solved, for there leaped into view, about fifty 
feet below us and near the river bank, the locomo- 
tive of the lumber-train. With a great puffing, rat- 
tling and clanging, the train of perhaps thirty little 
logging-cars, loaded high with snow-covered logs, 
rushed into view. Almost as quickly as it had come, 
with a clanking and creaking and squeaking of brakes, 
it disappeared. Again the brownish-white snow cur- 
tain shut out the scenery, and we were once more alone 
amid a solitude of spinning, driving flakes. 

Mile after mile wriggled by under our runners, un- 
til finally, when within about five miles of our jour- 
ney's end, we passed Ellen's Falls, or the Swift River 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 307 

Falls, as they are sometimes called. Had it been a 
summer day, we should have jumped out of our con- 
veyance and scrambled out over the level white ledges 
to the very brink of the falls. There a pretty sight 
greets one, for, as Sweetser says: "The river here 
plunges downward for a few feet through a series of 
boiling eddies, and is narrowed into a straight pas- 
sage between regular and massive granite walls about 
twenty feet high and several rods long. The stream 
roars down through this contracted gorge, and over- 
flows it during high water." ^ 

But to-day, all blizzard-lashed as we are, we cannot 
tarry for sightseeing. Our driver urges on the horses 
and soon we reach the deserted houses once tenanted 
by French lumbermen; next the cheerful lights of the 
Annis house twinkle out; then we pass the store and 
Mrs. Colbath's. We are now speeding along on the 
home-stretch. In the darkness we leave behind the 
Loring bungalow and Jack Allen's last home. Pres- 
ently the Hill Farm slips by, and now the hospitable 
lights of the Passaconaway House twinkle forth. Our 
long ride is ended and we are still alive. Here at 
the little hotel we find awaiting us light and warmth 
and a welcome from beloved neighbors. Without de- 
lay we are seated at a bountiful table and our plates 
are heaped high with steam.ing food. 

After supper we spent a pleasant hour in conver- 
sation. The genial postmaster showed us his stuffed 
lynx which had been shot a few months before. Sev- 
eral other "trophies of the chase," all taken in our 

^ Osgood's White Mountains, 342. 



3o8 Passaconaway 

intervale, were also in evidence, among them being 
deer-heads, a big hen hawk, and an owl, all beauti- 
fully mounted. 

Realizing that the sooner we got our cottage 
warmed up and the trunk unpacked the sooner we 
might go to bed, we regretfully bade our hosts "Good- 
night" and trudged across the road, knee-deep in snow, 
to "Score-o'-Peaks," We had borrowed a lantern and 
a pail of water. We carried the trunk in from the 
porch, where the stage-driver had deposited it, and 
then lighted every oil-lamp in the house. With the 
thermometer registering eighteen below zero out of 
doors, needless to say we started a fire in "double 
quick" time, and in a few minutes the grateful glow 
of two red-hot stoves added to our cheer, and we dis- 
carded our heavy wraps as the frail summer-cottage 
warmed up. 

After unpacking the trunk, we next turned our at- 
tention to the making of the bed. There were two 
double beds in our chambers. We placed the two mat- 
tresses upon the bed in the room above the kitchen. 
Then spreading two pairs of blankets beneath, and 
four pairs on top of our woolen sheets, and laying sev- 
eral folded quilts at the foot of the bed, we content- 
edly gazed upon our handiwork, and then went down 
to get warm before turning in. 

We tucked away our provisions in convenient nooks 
and, drawing the table up as close to the stove as 
possible, we spread the remainder of our lunches upon 
it. Bob and I partook, with a relish, of toasted bread 
and hot malted milk. Among other edibles, a bottle 



Forty belo'w Zero in Passaconaway-Land 309 

of olives, hitherto unopened, "went the way of all the 
earth." Our lunches had been put up with the idea in 
view of lasting us three or four meals. Completing a 
most satisfactory lunch, we replaced in the box the 
half-frozen pork-chops, hard-hoWtA eggs, brittle sand- 
wiches, and a mince pie which, in its present condi- 
tion, would have made a good harrow roller-blade. 
Before retiring we nailed a thermometer to a piazza- 
post, placed the pail of water between the cook-stove 
and chimney, stuffed the stoves with huge chunks of 
wood and climbed the stairs. 

Upon Bob's suggestion, we brought upstairs our fur- 
lined caps. Full of joyful anticipation of the experi- 
ences which the future had in store, pulling our cap 
flaps well down over our faces, we soon were lost to 
the world, being transported to the "Land of the 
Mountaineer." 

"B-r-r-r, boom!" A snowslide, which sounded as if 
it would rip off the whole side of the roof, awakened 
us with a start. We pulled up over us all the quilts 
at the foot of the bed. We could almost see the cold. 
The wind was rattling the windows and doors, so that 
they sounded like the continuous chatter of Catling 
guns. The constant roar of the wind told of the gale 
without and in such a racket sleep was out of the 
question. Chocorua stood out black and jagged over 
the broad tract of snow-capped hackmatacks. 

The cold had stopped our time-pieces. Bob re- 
marked that the sun didn't rise so early here as in the 
Bay State and that it might be well to get breakfast be- 
fore evening. So, after much hesitation, we counted 



3IO Passaconaway 

a shivering "One, two, and — and — thre-ece." Before 
we had time to think better of our decision we were 
dressed in clothes, which felt as if they had lain on 
a sheet of ice for days. Talk about cold — frigid — 
tihere actually was ice in the bottom of our "felts" ! 
For the next few minutes we hobbled about in frozen 
boots, but at length they thawed out and recovered 
their suppleness. 

Shivering and wringing our blue hands, we coaxed 
our smoldering fire into life and soon a flame shot up 
from the embers. The dismembered parts of our provi- 
sion box, the only wood we now had inside the cottage, 
went into the stove, and leaving Bob as chef to pre- 
pare the breakfast I set out, shovel in hand, to exca- 
vate the summer wood-pile from the snow-drift. It 
was not yet broad daylight. Groping about in the semi- 
darkness, I began to realize how cold it was. Brisk 
exercise kept me perfectly comfortable, but how frosty 
the hackmatacks, how arctic the mountains, and how 
quiet and cold the intervale itself appeared! 

The sky gradually grew brighter and, as I was car- 
rying in the last snow-caked armful of wood, Old 
Sol's welcome face appeared over Paugus. We 
placed the sticks behind and under the stove to dry and 
sat down to a hearty meal of steamed baked beans and 
coffee. Before the meal was over I noticed that the 
unconsumed beans were coated with white and that they 
had frozen solid while we were eating. The butter 
and the water in the pail were also frozen solid. 

Breakfast over, we soon had the dishes washed. 
Next we made the bed and swept the floor. Every 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 311 

time we opened our back door, which faces the west, 
the wind would send a shower of snow across the 
floor. This, as well as the snow which we tracked in, 
never melted during our entire stay. 

The wind had swept the sky clear of clouds, and the 
day was a perfect one. At short intervals, gusts of 
wind would come sweeping down from Mt. Hancock. 
We could follow the progress of these gusts as they 
swept over the mountains, for, from each peak as the 
wind struck it, a tiny cloud of snow would rise some- 
what resembling the banner-cloud of the Matterhorn. 

Contrasted with the dark pines, the snow seemed 
even whiter and more glistening than I ever had seen 
it before. Passaconaway, whose snow-clad slide pierces 
its very heart, loomed up supreme. Then, too, the 
dark, bluish-green northern peaks formed a beauti- 
ful and restful background for the sparkling meadow 
in the foreground. The ledge-capped mountains, Tre- 
mont. Owl's Head, Potash, Bald, and Chocorua, were 
gorgeous, especially when the sun struck certain cliffs 
at just the right angle, making them scintillate like 
gems of the first magnitude. The long stretches of 
pine forest mantled with snow added the finishing 
touches to this wonderful picture, a sight never to be 
erased from one's memory. 

A day of such rare qualities must be made the most 
of. So, with rifle and compass, we started out for 
Allen's Ledge. When the ground is bare we can make 
this ledge in three-quarters of an hour. On the un- 
certain crust, however, wc spent thirty minutes in 
crossing the field before even striking into the woods. 



312 Passaconaway 

In the woods, the walking was even worse. For a 
few steps the crust would bear us up, and then down 
we would go to a depth of a foot or two. The snow 
had covered all the bushes and completely obliterated 
the path. But, plunging into the woods at Camp Com- 
fort, we started on the climb. It was not long be- 
fore our heavy sheep-skin coats became uncomfortably 
heavy and hot. The toilsome ascent in the soft snow 
made us pant and we ate snow to cool off. 

After we had gone quite a distance, it seemed to me 
that we were too far to the westward. So we changed 
our course, going in a more easterly direction. This 
was a mistake. Had we continued but a few rods 
farther on our original course, we should have reached 
our goal. Instead of doing this, however, what we 
really did was to "slab" the side of Hedgehog in 
a southeasterly direction. By and by, we saw, through 
the leafless trees, a high ridge above us. With fresh 
courage we dashed up the heights until we came out 
upon the top. Here, to our surprise, we found that, 
instead of being on Allen's Ledge, we were on top 
of Hedgehog, a mountain of respectable height — espe- 
cially if climbed in a deep snow with "felts" on. One 
comes to appreciate the height of these summits after 
he actually has ascended them. We drank in the re- 
freshing air, studied the view as best we could, and 
noted the abundance of fresh deer tracks all about. 

About noon we heard a distant yet clear jingling 
of sleigh-bells and, upon looking down into the 
Downes Brook Valley, we could see a road far below 
us, running parallel with the brook. We descended 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 313 

rather laboriously to this road. In going down-hill our 
"felts" went down easily enough, but pulling them 
out of the snow for the next step was a different propo- 
sition. At last we reached the "Downes Brook Tote 
Road." It was Sunday, but sleighs and pungs bobbed 
to and fro, and we met scores of pedestrians. 

Rounding a turn in the road, vv^e came upon a few 
tar-paper shanties. The walls were of logs, locked 
together at the corners of the buildings. The doors, 
roofs, and in one or two cases the entire cabin, were 
covered with tarred paper. Leaves, dirt, and snow 
were banked tightly around the sills to keep out the 
wind. From a chimney made out of a nail-keg smoke 
curled upwards. From the fragrant odors issuing 
through the open door of this building we knew it 
must be the kitchen or cook-room of the camp. In 
front of several of the shanties were little groups of 
lumbermen, sitting on boxes, bags or overcoats, play- 
ing cards in the bright sunshine. A short distance down 
the road we turned around and took a picture of the 
camp, but only one cabin came out well in the 
photograph. 

We reached our piazza about three o'clock. The 
fire was quickly re-kindled and, putting the kettle, half 
full of ice, on the stove, we set the table. Bob had 
some baked beans and I, for a change, had half a dozen 
slices of bacon, slightly blackened by the hot fire. That 
evening we sat up long enough to get the two stoves 
red hot. Then, placing the water-pail between them 
and casting an anxious look at the mercury, we 
turned in. 



314 Passaconaway 

Dark clouds were skimming across the frigid sky 
and the wind had risen again. Remembering how cold 
it had been the night before, I placed the sleeping- 
bag under the mountain of bed-clothes and crawled into 
it. The harder the wind blew and the more violently 
the little house shook, the more we enjoyed our ad- 
venture. We were tired after our day of trudging 
through the snow and soon fell asleep. 

Monday morning dawned intensely cold. A bliz- 
zard was raging, and nothing, not even the row of 
hackmatacks, close at hand, was visible. It was like 
being in a boat enveloped in a thick fog, for not even 
the white fields about us could be seen. The snow 
drove against our little cottage as if determined to 
penetrate its walls. 

We remained in bed until noon, when, "tired of rest- 
ing," we mustered up our courage enough to jump 
out. The two fires were barely smoldering. The 
water-pail contained a solid piece of ice, and the ther- 
mometer afiirmed that the temperature was fourteen 
below. Each cooked his own meal. Bob again dined 
on beans. I fried a good mess of onions. Each drank 
two cups of coffee. 

We played checkers awhile. Then Bob drew car- 
toons on postcards to send home by the next mail, 
while I sat by admiringly. About two o'clock a loud 
thumping and stamping on the porch announced a wel- 
come visitor. In walked Tom S , a congenial 

neighbor of our own age. This injected new life into 
our drooping spirits, and even if the wind did sift 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 315 

in through innumerable cracks, we managed, by hug- 
ging the stove, to have a mighty good time and to 
keep a laugh from freezing. In the midst of our 
jollity we heard another pounding and in walked the 

postmaster, young Mr, P . I tell you there is not 

everybody who is honored in the midst of a mountain 
blizzard with a call from a member of the Great and 
General Court of New Hampshire. What a good 
chat we had I All too soon, however, this congenial 
little party was broken up, for at dark, about half- 
past four, our companions left for their homes. 

/\bout half-past six Bob and I sat down to our sup- 
per, a delicious meal of fried onions, chipped beef, 
deviled ham and coffee. Coffee was one thing we could 
make to perfection. Then, recalling the ancient say- 
ing that "a poor excuse is better than none," we set 
out for the hotel to "mail our letters." The warmth 
of the hotel was equal to that of Saturday night and 
we did hate to leave, a couple of hours later. Here 
we could take off our "mits" and have no fear of blue 
fingers. We listened to stories of the valley until our 
consciences told us that it was high time to return to 
the cottage. 

Although it was not so cold as on the previous night, 
we went to bed in the midst of a noise like that of 
bedlam. The windows, doors, and very roof creaked 
and rattled and seemed to be straining at every nail 
to free themselves from their iron fetters. The 
whistling of the cold wind and the straining of the 
house reminded me of the experience of the party 



3i6 Passaconaway 

which spent a winter on Mount Washington.^ The 
members of that party found that the noise of the 
incessant wind became an almost unbearable strain upon 
the nerves. 

A warm, dazzling sun beating into our faces, woke 
us next morning. The sun was so welcome, the wind 
so still and the bed clothes so warm that we had noth- 
ing to rouse us from our perfect contentment. We 
just lay there, as Harry Lauder says, "doing nothin' 
and wasting our time." About half-past ten a thump- 
ing and pounding told us that "Jim" was there, but 
bed was too inviting. We watched him drive up the 
Old Mast Road and bring back to our piazza several 
sled-loads of wood, before we felt in duty bound to 
get up and greet him. 

Although not the perfect day of Sunday, yet it glad- 
dened a pair of campers' hearts. The deep snow glit- 
tered, and every little while the wind would sweep 
it across the valley in a cloud and would rattle the 
snow against the house and windows like hail. All 
day long we could see the mountains flying their white 
flags. 

The mercury registered twenty-four below. We 
lost no time in piling up the wood which "Jim" had 
brought. While reaching above his head. Bob acci- 
dently knocked down a package of butter. With a 
resounding thud it struck the floor. But the butter 
was 50 solidly frozen that the floor made no impres- 
sion upon it. Whenever we needed butter for imme- 

^ See Mount Washington in Winter, by J. H. Huntington and 
others. 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 317 

diate use, we would cut oft a corner by hammering a 
knife through the lump. 

On the eastern end of the porch, partially sheltered 
from the wind and blowing snow, we engaged in a 
shooting-match, spending a portion of the morning 
thus. The guns were scarcely cleaned and oiled when 
Tom put in an appearance. In the afternoon it com- 
menced to snow hard again. Jim came over and re- 
galed us with stories. The hours slipped away enjoy- 
ably, though not comfortably, for it was bitingly cold 
in spite of the two fires in the house. Jim left at dark, 
but Tom and I got to reminiscing, narrating anecdotes 
and swapping "Old Jack" stories. 

Loath to break up our conversation, Bob had vol- 
unteered to go over to the Passaconaway House for 
the mail and water. The mail goes and comes every 
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Unfortunately he 
brought back news that we must return the next day. 
Under such conditions a bed seemed welcome, so after 
Tom left, at midnight, I retired. The mercury was 
see-sawing around the thirty-below mark and the wind 
seemed to penetrate to our very vitals. 

Bob had received several very interesting letters and 
remained a few minutes to read them. At length he 
came upstairs and had just put on his pajamas when 
I reminded him that he had not extinguished the lamp 
downstairs. Down he went, bare-footed, on the frosty 
stairs and floor, blew out the light and scampered up- 
stairs "as fast as two Jack-rabbits." For a long time 
after I could hear him tossing and turning in an en- 
deavor to warm his feet. 



3 1 8 Passaconaway 

Wednesday morning was as clear as a bell and cold 
— thirty-five degrees below zero tells the story! After 
a hot breakfast we packed the trunk. Then, taking 
the camera, we struck across the field to the lumber- 
railroad. On previous days we had seen the smoke 
of the engines as they plied back and forth, but, ex- 
cept in very few places, they were hidden from us 
by the huge banks the snow-plow had thrown up. In 
places we could walk easily, but just as we were about 
to think how fortunate we were, down we would go, 
the full length of our leg, and even then not reach 
the solid ground. In the fields the average depth of 
snow was at least four feet; while at the edge of the 
woods drifts about the pines and spruces were far 
higher than our heads. These little hills of sparkling 
white to the northwestward of every little tree pre- 
sented a beautiful picture. Wherever it was possible, 
we kept in the valleys or the hollow spaces between 
these snow-dunes, but often we were forced to cross 
a drift and that was a task long to be remembered, 
but not to be unnecessarily repeated. We would sink 
so deep at every step that it was all but impossible 
to extricate ourselves from the soft snow. Upon reach- 
ing the ridge made by the snow-plow we nearly came 
to a standstill. So soft and deep was this ridge that 
the more we struggled to force our way through it, the 
deeper we sank. Once or twice we fell down. Per- 
severance at length won and we stepped out upon the 
smooth road-bed. 

Locomotive "No. 2" stood before us, lazily steam- 
ing and smoking, a mere toy as compared with the 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 319 

huge locomotives such as whisk our "Twentieth Cen- 
tury" trains along; but, for a dwarf, it is a powerful 
little kettle and strong and fast enough for this humpy 
little railroad. We took several snapshots of Tom's 
brother, the brakeman, the engine, and of each other 
perched on the unique logging cars. We followed the 
track for half a mile or more and then returned. 

The thermometer was taken down, we washed up 
(for the first time since coming into the intervale), 
got into our city clothes, and, locking up, bade adieu 
to the dear little cottage, and waded over to the hotel 
for dinner. 

While we were dressing up, Fred Sawyer's pung, 
from Conway, swung into the hotel driveway. Be- 
cause of our hasty departure we could procure no 
conveyance in the neighborhood and, therefore, had 
communicated with Mr. Savv'yer by telephone. We all 
sat down to a piping hot dinner, served with a salad 
of stories. I recall only one of these stories. In 
substance it was as follows: — "Not long ago there 
came a couple of stormy days, followed by a holiday 
and a Sunday. After three days of loafing the lum- 
berjacks sat back in their chairs and refused to work 
on Sunday. The boss, a little man, noted for his 
energy and efficiency, came in and delivered an ulti- 
matum to the effect that the company had been pay- 
ing out large sums of money to feed them all the 
while they had been loafing, so that to-day they must 
get out and work, even if it was the Sabbath. Sev- 
eral of the 'half-way' men went to work, but the others, 
great surly giants, never left their places by the stove. 



320 Passaconaway 

The boss informed them that he would give them just 
five minutes to go to work. Not one of them had 
stirred when the fourth minute had passed, whereupon 
the little man procured from the storehouse a stick 
of dynamite and a piece of fuse. Placing these under 
the cabin and lighting the fuse, he informed the mu- 
tineers of their situation. In the wink of an eye the 
camp was emptied and with shouldered axes the recalci- 
trants hastened to their work. Calmly the boss 
stamped out the lighted fuse and put the dynamite back 
into the storehouse." 

After dinner we bade our generous hosts "Good-bye 
until next summer," and, bundling up warmly, were 
soon whisked down the road, round the turn, and the 
hotel was lost to view. I don't think I ever rode 
behind a finer pair of horses than on that downward 
trip. They kept up a steady, swift gait for the whole 
sixteen miles. Up-hill and down-hill and around curves 
we fairly flew. Now we were balancing at the Devil's 
Jump, as if pausing for a new start down the other 
side of Spruce Hill. At length the Ham Farm was 
reached and from here on we reeled off mile after mile 
of wriggling road. 

Yet none too quickly did we travel. So clear was it 
that almost every tree on the mountains was visible. 
But the cold was indescribably biting. My foot seemed 
to be asleep, and Bob's nose and chin were beginning to 
look chalky. By stamping my feet I was able to revive 
them, and by continually clenching my mittened fists 
and driving them deep into my pockets I could keep 
them from stiffening. I noticed that my companion was 



Forty below Zero in Passaconaway-Land 321 

similarly occupied. But for the cold we might have 
enjoyed this wonderful ride. Vainly did I try to point 
out Washington and several of the other noted peaks, 
but all to no avail; my chum would not even turn his 
stiff neck to view them. At length he remarked that 
all the information he desired was to know just how 
far we were from the station. 

At W. Colby Chase's we saw his cattle standing in 
four feet of snow, all huddled together and emitting 
clouds of steam. From Mr. Chase's we had a fine 
view of the Peak House, perched high up on the icy 
ridge which runs up into Chocorua's jagged tooth. 

Now we pounded and thumped our benumbed limbs 
and now, like tortured martyrs, we patiently endured 
the cold. If only we could have gotten out and walked 
for a stretch — but we had no time to lose if we were to 
catch the train for Boston. 

There never existed a more thankful pair than we 
were when we rounded Potter's Farm and pranced 
down the streets of Conway towards the station. Al- 
though the ride down from Passaconaway took only 
two hours, the ride up in the blizzard had been a negli- 
gible quantity compared with this cold. On the follow- 
ing morning the thermometers reached forty-six de- 
grees below zero in the mountain region, and during 
our ride it must have been forty below. After entering 
the train we found Bob's face to be slightly frost- 
bitten. My heel did not get thawed out much before 
we reached Portsmouth. 

It is long after dark when our train pulls into the 
North Station, Boston. Once more we are home from 



322 Passaconaway 

the mountains. But how different has this trip been 
from those with which hitherto we have been familiar 
— our annual summer pilgrimages ! And now, having 
returned in safety from our winter expedition of 
nineteen-hundred-and-almost-froze-to-death, let us bid 
adieu, until next July, to Passaconaway and to Pas- 
saconaway-land in the White Mountains. 



INDEX 



Abbott, John S. C, Life and 
Adventures of Miles Stand- 
ish, 196. 

Adams, Annals of Portsmouth, 
352. 

Adams, Mount, 131. 

Adirondacks, 168. 

Adventures, A Chapter of, 
248-272. 

Agamenticus, Mount, 47, 48. 

Agawams (Indians), 13. 

Agiocochook, Mount, 49, 50. 

Ahawayetsquaine, 59. 

Albany, N. H., 51, 99, 104, 
no, III, 113, 132, 146, 
157, 159, 161, 171, 178, 
179, 180, 182, 184, 186, 
193, 195, 196, 200, 208, 
Chapter XIII, pp. 210-247, 
248, 276, 284, 287, 294, 
302. 

Albany, N. Y., 36, 83, 230. 

Albany Haystack, 144. 

Alexander, 55. 

Algonquin, 32. 

Allard, 217, 218, 219, 232. 

Allen, Jack, no, 166, 173, 
183, 238, 241, 263, 266, 
Chapter XV, pp. 273-300, 

307, 317- 
Allen's Ledge, 182, 183, 184. 
253, 312. 



Allen's Mill, 247. 

Amariscoggin River, 70. 

Amariscoggins (Indians), 13, 
88,94. 

American Antiquarian Society, 
Collections of, 68. 

American Biography, Cyclo- 
pedia of, by Appleton, 
168. 

American Colonies, Quakers 
in, by Rufus Jones, 90, 

American Institute of In- 
struction Path, 99. 

Among the Clouds, 173, 180. 

Among the Hills, Whittier, 
132. 

Amorisgelu, Mount, 164. 

Amoskeag Falls, 21, 61. 

Anderson, Mount, 142, 143, 
162, 163, 164, 165. 

Andras, Captain, 96. 

Andros, Sir Edmund, 62, 85, 
87. 

Androscoggins (Indians), 78. 

Anne's, Queen, War, 97. 

Annis, 221, 238, 239, 284, 
285, 307. 

Appalachia, 103, 115, 172, 

173, 177- 
Appalachian Mountain Club, 
99, no, 139, 161, 163, 165, 
169, 180, 186, 239, 242. 
323 



324 



Index 



Appalachian Mountain Club 
Guide, 159, 160, 161, 162, 
164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 
172. 

Appalachian Mountain Re- 
serve, 235. 

Appleton's Cyclopaedia of 
American Biogiaphy, 168. 

Armes, Ethel Marie, 153. 

Aspenquid, Saint, 48. 

Atlantic Ocean, no. 

At the North of Bearcamp 
Water, by Frank Bolles, 
102, 103, 115, 116, 118, 
119, 130, 141, 146, 158, 
171, 192, 195, 202, 208, 
234, 238, 242. 

Augusta, Me., 282. 



Balanced Boulder, 178. 

Bald Mt., 115, 122, 134, 135, 

137, 138, 139, 183, 195, 
269, 311. 

Baldface, Mount, 143. 

Barbadoes, 59, 72, 79, 85. 

Barefoot. Walter, 84. 

Bartlett, 159, 161, 169, 213, 
223, 234, 239. 

Bartlett Haystack, 143. 158, 
159, 160, 264. 

Bartlett Indians, 155. 

Bartlett Land and Lumber 
Company, 159, 234. 

Bashaba, 13, 15, 17, 21, 23, 
24, 25, 27, 31, 32, ZZ, 35, 
36, 37, 39, 41, 46, 47, 49, 
51, 52, 53, 54, 57, 58, 62, 
64, 68, 73, 74, 79, 80, 81, 
82, 83, 85, 97, 102, 105. 



Beals, Rev. Charles Edward, 
Intro., 243, 275. 

Bear, 19, 42, 48, 109, iii, 
112, 113, 129, 153, 172, 
183, 195, 198, 200, 218, 
219, 236, 245, 247, 248, 
260, 261, 269, 287, 290, 
291, 293, 294. 

Bear Mt., 143, 157, 158, 159, 
179, 234, 239, 276, 284, 
291, 294. 

Bear, The Truce of the, by 
Kipling, 219. 

Bearcamp, 145. 

Bearcamp Water, At the 
North of, by Frank Bolles, 
102, 103, 115, 116, 118, 
119, 130, 141, 146, 158, 
171, 192, 195, 202, 208, 
234, 238, 242. 

Beavers, 19, 48, 196, 211, 
220. 

Beckytown, 174, 175. 

Beede, 215. 

Belknap, Jeremy, History of 
Neiv Hampshire, 12, ig, 25, 
27, 30, 31, 36, 41, 62, 73, 
83, 84, 89, 93, 97, 98, 204, 
205, 206, 207, 210. 

The same. Farmer's Edition, 
78, 79, 80, 83. 84, 85, 
86. 

Belknap, Mount, 145. 

Bemis, 162, 163. 

Bent, A Bibliography of the 
White Mountains, 148. 

Berry, Nathaniel, 208. 

Bibliography of the White 
Mountains, by Bent, 148. 

Bickford, 234, 247. 



Index 



325 



Birch Intervale. 51, 76, 105, 
208. 

Birch Ridge, 157, 234. 

Black William, 53, 54. 

Blackcap, 144. 

Blow-down, A, 250, 251, 
252. 

Blue Ridge, 142. 

Bodge, George M., King 
Philip's War, 89. 

Bodreau, 241. 

Belles, At the North of Bear- 
camp Water, I02, 103, 115, 
116, 118, 119, 130, 141, 
146, 158, 170, 171, 192, 
201, 202, 208, 234, 238, 
242. 

Bolles, Chocoriias Tenants, 
113, 114, 166. 

Bolles, Land of the Lingering 
Snoiv, 115, 116. 

Bolles Trail, 241. 

Bond, Mount, 142. 

Border Wars of New Eng- 
land, Samuel Adams Drake, 
86, 89. 

Boston, 30, 31, 34, 37, 43, 53, 
58, 61, 62, 65, 70, 72, 77, 
no, 121, 131, 191, 226, 
230, 232, 239, 241, 283, 
297, 298, 321. 

Boston Evening Post, 98. 

Boston Public Library, Bulle- 
tin, 120. 

Boston Transcript, 153, 272. 

Boston Traveller, 76. 

Bounty on Bears, 248. 

Bouton, Nathaniel, History of 
Concord, 27, 32, 37, 51, 52, 
55, 58, 60, 76. 



Provincial Papers of Neiv 
Hampshire, 30, 31, 61, 62, 
74, 89. 

Bowser, Horace F., pictures 
by, opp. pp. 178, 194, 
224, 

Bradley, Isaac, 97. 

Braintree, 31. 

Brenton, William, 43. 

Brewster, Charles, 159, 264. 

Brickhouse Mt., 162. 

Bridal of Pennacook, The, by 
Whittier, 55, 56, 57. 

Bride of Burton, Caverly, 
148. 

Bridgewater, 146. 

Bridgewater, Battle of, 223. 

Broad Arrow, 116, 202, 203, 
204, 205, 208, 210. 

Broughton, 234. 

Brown, 216. 

Browne, George Waldo, 75. 

Brownfield, 144. 

Brunswick, Me., 79. 

Bulletin, Boston Public Li- 
brary, 120. 

"Bumblebee," 241, 242. 

Burbank, 221, 234, 235, 

Bureau of Atnerican Ethnol- 
ogy: Handbook of Ameri- 
can Indians, by Flagg, 12, 
13, 16, 60, 72, 96. 

Burnt-Meadow Mt., 144. 

Burton, 211, 212, 213, 216, 
217, 218, 221, 223, 230, 
231, 247. 

Burton, The Bride of, Caver- 
ly, 148. 

Butler, A. A., 175, 177. 

Byron, Manfred, 49. 



326 



Index 



Cambridge, Mass., 236, 243. 
Camel's Hump, 169. 
Camp Comfort, 190, 248, 312, 
Campbell, Cornelius, 147, 

148, 211. 
Canada, 94, 128, 149, 168, 

277-. 
Canadian Lynx, 106, 134, 

199, 200. 
Canadians, 73, 153, 241, 265, 

267, 281. 
Capture of Highwaymen, 252- 

253. 

Carlton, 242, 243, 244, 246. 

Carrigain House, 238, 294. 

Carrigain,Mt., 113, 142, 161, 
162, 163, 165, 166, 167, 
168, 169, 183, 264. 

Carroll County, 51, 221. 

Carroll County, History of, 
by Georgia Drew Merrill, 
II, 12, 26, 100, 117, 120, 
121, 147, 148, 149, 210, 
211, 213, 214, 215, 216, 
219, 230, 232, 233, 234, 
238, 247, 248, 257, 271, 
272. 

Carter, 247. 

Cascades, 174. 

Casco, Me,, 95, 97. 

Caverly, The Bride of Bur- 
ton, 148. 

Cedar Swamp, lOO. 

Chamberlain, John, 125, 126. 

Champney, 132, 133, 134, 
135, 136, 169. 

Charlton, Edwin A., A^^tf 
Hampshire as It Is, 15, 30, 
31, 72, 80, 89, 121, 122, 
149, 211, 247. 



Chase, 237, 247, 305, 321. 

Chase, Francis, Gathered 
Sketches from the Early 
History of New Hampshire 
and Vermont, I2I. 

Chelmsford, 60, 66, 67, 73, 

75. 
Chicago, 138, 245, 300. 
Chichester, 167. 
Child, Lydia Maria, 147, 148. 
Chocorua, 11, 28, Chap. VH, 

130-156, 211, 216, 224, 

230. 
Chocorua, Mount, 102, no, 

III, 115, 116, 118, 119, 

122, 129, Chap. VH, pp. 

130-156, 158, 160, 168, 

179, 182, 183, 202, 211, 

251, 252, 273, 301, 309, 

311, 321. 
Chocorua's Tenants, Frank 

Bolles, 113, 114, 166. 
Chronicles, Massachusetts, by 

Alexander Young, 55. 
Chubbuck, Isaac Y., 177. 
Church, Captain Benjamin, 

94, 95, 96, 100. 
Church, Charles, 186, 193, 

237- 
Church Falls, 186, 192. 
Church, Frederic Edwin, 186. 
Church, Philip's War, 95, 

96. 
Church Pond, 169, Chap. XI, 

pp. 193-201, 228, 290. 
Clarke, Frank Wigglesworth, 

246. 
Clarke, Helen A., Poet's New 

England, 56. 
Cleveland, 245. 



Index 



327 



Clinton, Mount, 143. 

Cloud-burst, of 1912, 256. 

Clouds on Whitcface, 180, 
181. 

Cobb's Ford, 159. 

Cocheco (see Dover). 

Coffin, 45, 46, 89, 92, 93. 

Colbath, Mrs., 104, 166, 182, 
195, 225, 236, 237, 238, 
241, 247, 265, 307. 

Colden, Cadvvallader, History 
of the Five Nations, New 
York, 1727, 16, 

Collections American Antiqua- 
rian Society, 68. 

Colonial Dames, Massachu- 
setts Society of, 75. 

Colonial Life in New Hamp- 
shire, by James H. Fassett, 
127. 

Coman, Katharine, Industrial 
History of the United 
States, 205. 

Concord (Pennacook), 13, 14, 

15, 16, 30, 51, 58, 65, 75, 
80, 167, 216, 236, 244. 

Concord, History of, by 
Bouton, 27, 32, 51, 52, 55, 
58, 60, 76. 

Concord, History of, by James 
O. Lyford, 12, 13, 14, 15, 

16, 20, 21, 25, 32, 33, 34, 
35, 36, 37, 39, 43, 45, 46, 
51, 56, 61, 64, 65, 68, 69, 
70, 72, 73, 74, 76. 

Concord and Northern Rail- 
road, 51, 76. 

Confederacy, 11, 13, 17, 20, 
21, 53- 

Connecticut, 69, 188. 



Conway, 92, 140, 144, 147, 
172, 177, 191, 213, 219, 
220, 221, 222, 225, 232, 

233, 234, 236, 238, 239, 
241, 244, 245, 247, 252, 
253, 257, 258, 301, 302, 
303, 319, 321. 

Conway Lumber Company, 

234, 235, 238, 241, 265. 
Coolidge and Mansfield, His- 
tory and Description of 
Neiv England, 33, 44, 99, 
126, 211, 216, 217, 247. 

Coosaukes (Indians), 13. 

Copple Crown, 145. 

Cornish, 145. 

"Cow, The," 139, 146. 

Cowper, The Task, 179. 

Cragged Mt., 144. 

Cranfield, Governor, 80, 81, 
82, 83, 84. 

Crawford, 167. 

Crawford, Mount, I43- 

Crosbe, 216. 

Crystal Hills, 184. 

Cummings, William, 122. 

Cutshamekin, 34. 

Cyclopaedia of American Bi- 
ography, by D. Appleton, 
168. 

Dana, Professor, 216. 

Danforth, 86. 

Dartmouth, 167, 216. 

Deception, Mount, 143. 

Deer, 48, 109, 115, 138, 196, 
197, 198, 201, 224, 229, 
231, 261, 262, 263, 269, 
273, 285, 286, 288, 289, 
290, 292, 293. 



328 



Index 



Deer Island, 58. 

Deer Ponds, Chap. XI, pp. 

193-201, 228. 
Deerfield, 34. 
Deering, 247. 
"Devil's Jump," 305, 306, 

320. 
"Devil's Wash-basin," 187, 

188. 
Dickinson, 45, 47. 
Discovery of America^ John 

Fiske, 16, 32. 
Dissertation upon Roast Pig, 

by Charles Lamb, 269. 
Double-Head, 143. 
Dover, 34, 45, 50, 60, 70, 72, 

73, 74. 86, 88, 89, 90, 98, 

99, 215, 297, 299. 
Douglas, John, 247. 
Do w^nes Brook, 106, 107, 112, 

257, 259, 312, 313. 
Drake, Frederick T., picture 

by, opp. p. 140. 
Drake, Samuel Adams, Bor- 
der Wars of Neiv England, 

86, 89. 
Drake, Samuel Adams, Heart 

of the White Mountains, 

132, 149. 
Drake, Samuel Adams, New 

England Legends and Folk 

Lore, 56, 130, 131, 149. 
Drake, Samuel G., Indians of 

North America, 24, 32, 35, 

36, 37, 39, 55, 58, 59, 65, 

68, 69, 70, 72, 75, 77, 85, 

89, 91, 95, 96, 120. 
Drake, Samuel G., Old Indian 

Chronicles, 55. 
Dudley, Governor, 97. 



Dunstable, 73, 120, 124, 128. 

Dutch, 203. 

Dutch and Quaker Colonies 

in America, by John Fiske, 

69. 



Eagle and Rabbit, 248, 249, 
250. 

Eagle Ledge, 144. 

East Branch, 166. 

East of the White Hills, M. 
E. Eastman, 146, 148. 

Eastman, M. E., East of the 
White Hills, 146, 148. 

Eaton, no, 212, 216, 219. 

Economic and Social History 
of Neiv England, William 
B. Weeden, 116, 202, 203, 
204, 207, 208. 

Edson Cemetery, Lowell 
Mass., 51. 

Effingham, 145. 

Elijah, :io. 

Eliot, John (The Apostle), 
21, 35, 37, 38, 47. 61, 62, 
63, 64, 65, 68. 

Ellen's Falls, 306. 

Elliot Pond, 145. 

Endicott, John, 43. 

English, 18, 19, 24, 25, 26, 
27, 28, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 
36, 39, 40, 42, 43, 46, 53, 
54, 58, 62, 64, 67, 68, 69, 
71, 73, 74, 77, 78, 79, 80, 
81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 
94, 96, 97, 100, 120, 123, 
124, 125, 127, 149, 203, 
223, 241. 

Epsom, 167. 



Index 



329 



Evangeline, Henry W. Long- 
fellow, 19. 

Exeter, 31, 205. 

Exeter, Registry of Deeds, 
31. 

Falls, The Spirit of the, 189. 

Falmouth, 207, 208. 

Farewell Speech, of Passacona- 
way, 20, 39, 40, 41, 69. 

Farmer, John, 30. 

Farmer and Moore, Gazetteer 
of Neiu Hampshire, 247. 

Farmer and Moore, Histor- 
ical Collections, 49, 51, 92, 
129, 

Farnham, 217. 

Fassett, James H,, Colonial 
Life in New Hampshire, 
127. 

Fay, Charles E., 103, 173. 

Felt, History of Salem, 58. 

Field, Mount, 143. 

Fishing Places, 20, 27. 

Files in Secretary's Office, N. 
H., 80, 82. 

Fiske, John, Dutch and 
Quaker Colonies in Amer- 
ica, 69. 

Fiske, John, The Discovery of 
America, 16, 32. 

Fiske, Reverend (of Chelms- 
ford), 75. 

Five Nations, 11. 

Flagg, Bureau of American 
Ethnology, Handbook of 
American Indians, 12, 13, 
16, 60, 72, 96. 

Flat Mt., 180. 

Flume Brook, 99. 



Force, Historical Tracts, 26. 

Forest fires, 263, 264, 265, 
267, 268, 269. 

Forty below Zero in Passa- 
conavvay-Land, Chap. XVI, 
pp. 301-322. 

Fox, 48, 129, 133, 200, 
288. 

Fox, Charles J., 149. 

Fox and Osgood, New Hamp- 
shire Book, 149, 150, 205. 

Franconia Mts., 109, 142, 
166. 

Franklin, Mount, 143. 

Free Will Baptist Church, 
231. 

Freedom, 145. 

French, 67, 73, 80, 84, 85, 
94, 96, 97, 112, 120, 121, 
132, 133, 153, 203, 241, 
265, 268, 273, 281, 294, 

307. 
Frost, 144. 
Frye, 122, 123, 125. 
Fryeburg, Me., I22, 128, 144- 

Game Warden, 285, 286, 

287. 
Gathered Sketches from the 

Early History of New 

Hampshire and Vermont, 

by Francis Chase, 121. 
Gazetteer, New England, by 

John Hayward, 230, 247. 
Gazetteer of New Hampshire, 

by Farmer and Moore, 

247. 
George, 215, 216, 221, 222, 

223, 224, 225, 226, 227. 
Giant's Stairs, 143. 



330 



Index 



Gilman, 147, 215, 216, 271, 
272. 

Gline, 144. 

Goodale, Hon. John H., His- 
tory of Nashua, 122. 

Gookin, Daniel, 39, 45, 47, 65, 
66. 

Gookin, Daniel, Historical 
Collections of the Indians 
of Neiv England, 63. 

Governor's Right, 210, 212. 

Grafton, 221. 

Granite Monthly, 19, 21, 89, 

119, 155. 
Granite State Magazine, 12, 

51, 75, 76, 115, 147, 156, 

272. 
Great Spirit, 17, 21, 24, 147, 

148. 
Greeley's, 174, 
Green Hills, 144. 
Green Mt., 144. 
Greene's Cliff, Mount, 142, 

169, 177, 193, 195, 198, 

264, 291. 
Guide and Trapper of the 

White Mountains, Chapter 

XV, pp. 273-300. 
Guyot, Prof. Arnold, 169. 



Hale, Mount, 143. 

Hale's Location, 213. 

Half Century of Conflict, 

Francis Parkman, I2I. 
Half-way Bridge, 305. 
Half-way House, 151, 305. 
Ham Farm, 305, 320. 
Hamlet, Wm. Shakespeare, 

184. 



Hancock, Mount, 142, 169, 

311. 

Handbook of American Indi- 
ans, Bureau of American 
Ethnology, Flagg, 12, 13, 
16, 60, 72, 96. 

Haskell, 247. 

Hassell, Benjamin, 124. 

Haverill, 96. 

Hawkins (see Kancama- 
gus). 

Hawkins, Richard, 12. 

Hawthorne, Captain, 70. 

Hayford, 216. 

Hayward, John, Neiv Eng- 
land Gazetteer, 230, 
247. 

Head, 216. 

Heard, 89, 92. 

Heart of the White Moun- 
tains, by Samuel Adams 
Drake, 132, 149. 

Heart of the Wilderness, 
Julius Ward, 168. 

Hedgehog, Mount, 105, 179, 
182, 183, 193, 194, 248, 
253, 264, 291, 312. 

Henry, 172. 

Herons, Blue, 198. 

Hiawatha, Henry W. Long- 
fellow, 21. 

Highwaymen, The Capture 
of, 252, 253. 

Hill, David H., 148. 

Hill, Richard, Farm, 235, 
263, 288, 289, 307. 

Hinchman, Lieut. Thomas, 
65, 67, 68, 86. 

Hinds, Ambros, 216. 

Hiram, 144. 



Index 



331 



Historical Collections of the 
Indians of New England, 
Daniel Gookin, 63. 

Historical Collections, Far- 
mer and Moore, 49, 51, 92, 
129. 

Historical Collections, New 
Hampshire, 45, 1 21. 

Historical Mem., A. H. 
Quint, 89, 90. 

Historical Tracts, Force, 26. 

History and Description of 
New England, Coolidge 
and Mansfield^ 33, 44, 99, 
126, 211, 216, 217, 247. 

History of Carroll County, 
Georgia Drew Merrill, 
II, 12, 26, 100, 117, 120, 
121, 147, 148, 149, 210, 
211, 213, 214, 215, 216, 
219, 230, 232, 233, 234, 
238, 247, 248, 257, 271, 
272. 

History of Concord, Nathan- 
iel Bouton, 27, 32, 51, 52, 

55, 58, 60, 76. 

History of Concord, James O. 
Lyford, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 
20, 21, 25, 32, 33, 34, 35, 

36, 37, 39, 43, 45, 46, 51, 

56, 61, 64, 65, 68, 69, 70, 
72, 73, 74, 76. 

History of Lynn, Lewis, 54. 

History of Manchester, John 
N. McClintoclc, 125. 

History of Manchester, 
Chandler E. Potter, 12, 13, 
16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 
23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 
31, 33, 34, 35, 37. 38. 40, 



41, 42, 43, 44, 52, 53, 54, 

58, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 

66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 

73, 75, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 

83, 84, 85, 86, 89, 96, 98, 

100, 120, 121, 125, 126, 

127. 
History of Nashua, Hon. 

John H. Goodale, 122. 
History of Neiv England, 

William Hubbard, 11, 25, 

27, 54, 55, 58. 
History of Neiv Hampshire, 

Jeremy Belknap, 12, 19, 25, 

27, 30, 31, 36, 41, 62, 73, 

78, 79, 80, 83, 84, 85, 86, 

89, 93, 97, 98, 204, 205, 

206, 207, 210. 
History of New Hamp., John 

N. McClintock, 125. 
History of Salem, Joseph B. 

Felt, 58. 
History of Warren, William 

Little, 47. 
Hitchcock, Charles H., 170. 
Hitchcock, Mount, 157, 169, 

170. 
Hogkins (Kancamagus), 77, 

80, 82. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, One 

Hoss Shay, igo. 
Hope, Mount, 80, 100. 
Hope-Hood (Wahwah), 84, 

85, 86, 95, 119- 
Home's Camp, 172. 
How the Deer Helped to 

Harvest Our Crops, 261, 

262, 263. 
Howe, Fred B., 264, 265, 

268. 



332 



I tide: 



Hubbard, William, History 

of New England^ 1 1, 25, 

27, 54, 55, 58. 
Hunt, Arthur P., 246. 

pictures by, opp. pp. 136, 

186. 
Hunt, Una A. (Mrs. Arthur 

P.), 246. 
Hunt, Mr. , picture by, 

opp, p. 290. 
Hunting, 217, 220, 273, 284, 

285. 
Huntington, Joshua H., 135, 

170, 187, 316. 
Huntington, Mount, 99, 169, 

170, 171. 
Hutchinson, Anne, 31. 

Incidents in White Mountain 
History, Benjamin G. Wil- 
ley, 28, 122, 148, 211, 217, 
219, 220. 

Industrial History of U. S., 
K. Coman, 205. 

Indians of North America, 
S. G. Drake, 24, 32, 35, 36, 
37, 39, 55, 58, 59, 65, 68, 
69, 70, 72, 75, 78, 85, 89, 
91, 95, 96, 120. 

Ipswich, 33. 

Iron Mt., 143. 

Israel, Mount, 142. 

Jackson, Dr. Charles T., 132. 
James, George B., 235, '276. 
Janney, Samuel M., Life of 

William Penn, 21, 30, 46. 
Jefferson, 164. 
Jenkins, Reynold, 32, 44. 



Jones, Rufus, Quakers in 
American Colonies, 90. 

Journal, Governor John Win- 
throp, 54. 

Juliet's Balcony, 187. 

Kancamagus, 11, 52, 74, 

Chap. IV, pp. 77-101. 
Kancamagus, Mount, 99, 10 1, 

171, 172, 269. 
Kantantowit's Field, 17, 
Kearsarge, Mount, 122, 143, 

144, 146, 303. 
Kennett, A. C, 241, 276, 288, 

294. 
Keyes, Solomon, 127. 
Kezar, 144. 

Kidder, Benjamin, 122. 
Kineo Bay, 168. 
King, 36, 137, 203, 205, 208, 

210, 212. 
King, Thomas Starr, The 

White Hills, 49, 131, 148. 
King Philip, 23, 28, 47, 55, 

59, 63, 68, 70, 100. 
Kiiig Philip's War, George 

M. Bodge, 89. 
King William's War, 84. 
Kipling, Rudyard, The Truce 

of the Bear, 219. 
Knight, 65, 66. 
Knowles, David, 146, 151, 

153, 154, 155, 252. 
Knox, 221, 
Kulheag, 19. 

Lafayette, Mount, 142. 
Lake Country, iii. 
Lamb, Charles, Dissertation 
upon Roast Pig, 269. 



Index 



333 



Land of Lingering SnoWj 
Frank Bolles, 115, 116. 

Langdon, Mount, 143, 

Larcom, Lucy, 75, 102, 115, 
119, 130, 180, 181. 

Lauder, Harry, 316. 

Lawrence, Samuel, 232. 

Legends and Fotk-Lore, New 
England, Samuel Adams 
Drake, 56, 130, 131, 149. 

Leverett, Governor Sir John, 
65. 

Levett, Christopher, 25. 

Lewis, History of Lynn, 54. 

Liberty, James, 146, 150, 151, 
152, 153. 

Life and Adventures of Miles 
Standish, John S. C. Ab- 
bott, 196. 

Life of Williarn Penn, Sam- 
uel M. Janney, 21, 30, 

Limington, 145. 

Lincoln, 163, 172, 233. 

Line, John, 67, 68. 

Litchfield, 47. 

Little, William, History of 

Warren J 47. 
Livermore, 99, 163, 213. 
London, 55. 
Long Pond, 144. 
Longfellow, Henry W., Evan- 
geline, 19. 

Hiawatha, 21. 

Poems of New England, 
130. 
Lorgin, 66. 
Loring, George, 239. 240, 

241, 243, 307. 
Lovell, 144. 



Lovewell, Captain John, 120, 
121, 123, 124, 125, 127, 
128, 144, 149. 

Lowell, Mount, 142, 162, 163, 
164, 165. 

Lumbering, 226, 227, 232, 
233, 234, 235, 237, 241, 
247, 253, 257, 263, 265, 
266, 267, 276, 277, 278. 
306, 307, 313, 318. 

Lyford, James O., History of 
Concord, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 
20, 21, 25, 32, 33, 34, 35, 

36, 37, 39, 43, 45, 46, 51, 
56, 61, 64, 65, 68, 69, 70, 

72, 73, 74, 76. 
Lyman, Mt., 144. 
Lynn (see Saugus), 29, 58. 
Lynn, History of, Lewis, 54. 

Mad River, 172. 

Madison^ no, 140, 145, 213, 

234- 
Madison, Mount, 143. 
Magnalia, Cotton Mather, 24. 
Maguas (see Mohawks), 12, 

62, 73, 79. 
Maine, 13, 47, 48, 52, 70, 78, 

83, 84, no, 131, 144, 155, 

276, 280, 281, 295. 
Maine Woods, Henry David 

Thoreau, 17. 
Manatahqua, 53. 
Manchester (Amoskeag), 13, 

20, 61. 
Manchester, History of, by 

Chandler E. Potter, 12, 13, 

16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 

23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 

31, 33, 34, 35, 37, 38, 40, 



334 



Index 



41, 42, 43, 44, 52, 53, 54, 
58, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 
66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 
73, 75, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 
83, 84, 85, 86, 89, 96, 98, 
100, 120, 121, 125, 126, 
127. 

Manfred, Lord Byron, 49. 

Manitou, 17, 21. 

Mansfield, Mount, 168. 

Maramasquand, Job, 86. 

March, Clement, 210. 

Marston Hill, 270. 

Mason, 81, 82. 

Massachusetts, 13, 31, 52, 78, 
205, 237, 243. 

Massachusetts Archives^ 44, 
65. 

Massachusetts Chronicles, 

Young, 55. 

Massachusetts Government, 
34, 36, 62, 70, 85, 120, 149, 
203. 

Massachusetts Historical So- 
ciety Collections, 24, 63. 

Massachusetts Society of Co- 
lonial Dames, 75. 

Massasoit, 23, 63. 

Mast Trade and Road, 104, 
116, 137, 190, Chapter XII, 
pp. 202-209, 249, 252, 253, 
256, 265, 299, 316. 

Mather, Cotton, Maffnalia, 

24, 55. 

Matterhorn, 311. 

Mayflower, 24. 

Mayhew, 166, 238, 239. 

McClintock, John N., His- 
tory of New Hampshire, 
125. 



McCrille's Farm, 180. 

Meed, Benjamin, 216. 

Memoir of the Life of Henry 
Ware, Jr., John Ware, 184. 

Merrill, Georgia Drew, His- 
tory of Carroll County, 
II, 12, 26, 100, 117, 120, 
121, 147, 148, 149, 210, 
211, 213, 214, 215, 216, 
219, 230, 232, 233, 234, 
238, 247, 248, 257, 271, 
272. 

Merrimack, 15, 17, 20, 21, 
26, 31, 51, 57, 70, 80, 81, 
87,94. 

Merrimacks (Indians), 18, 
36, 37, 44, 96, 97. 

Mesandowit, 84, 89. 

Metambomet, 84. 

Middle, Mt., 144. 

Minister's Lot, 210, 212. 

Moat Mt., no, 122, 143, 
144, 158, 159, 179, 183, 
303. 

Mohawk Indians, 12, 13, 14, 
15, 16, 32, 36, 40, 61, 62, 
73, 79, 80, 83, 84, 85, 88. 

Mohawk Valley, 245. 

Mohegans (Indians), 37. 

Monadnock, Mount, iii. 

Monroe, Mount, 143. 

Montowompate, 54, 55, 56, 

57, 58. 
Moore, Paul Elmer, Shel- 

burne Essays, 1 1 1. 
Moose, 19, 48, 50, 115, 200, 

228, 229, 269. 
Moose, Upper Pond, 144. 
Moosehead Lake, 168. 
Mooselauke, Mt., 142, 170. 



Index 



335 



Morse, 226, 227, 237. 

Morton, New England Ca- 
naan, 26, 27, 56, 58. 

Mosely, Captain, 68. 

Moultonborough, 145. 

Muckamug, Peter, 86. 

Musgrove, Eugene R., White 
Hills in Poetry, 148, 150, 
156, 181. 



Namaoskeag (Manchester), 

20. 
Namaoskeag (Indians), 13. 
Nanamocomuck, 52, 53, 60, 

61, 62, 77, 88. 
Nancy, Mount, 142, 143, 162, 

163, 164, 165, 183. 
Nanepashemet, 54. 
Narragansett, R. I., 79. 
Narragansetts (Indians), 37. 
NashuOj History of, Hon. 

John H. Goodale, 122. 
Nashuas (Indians), 13. 
Natick, 65. 
Natticook, 40, 42, 43, 80, 81, 

196. 
Naumkeag (Salem), 65. 
New Castle, 80. 
Neiv England, Border Wars 

of, Samuel A. Drake, 86, 

89. 

New England Canaan, Mor- 
ton, 26, 27, 56, 58. 

New England, Economic and 
Social History of, William 
B. Weeden, 116, 202, 203, 
204, 207, 208. 

New England Gazetteer, John 
Hayward, 230, 247. 



New England, Historical Col- 
lections of the Indians of, 
Daniel Gookin, 63. 

New England, History and 
Description of, Coolidge 
and Mansfield, 33, 44, 99, 
126, 211, 216, 217, 247. 

New England, History of, 
William Hubbard, 11, 25, 
27, 54, 55, 58. 

New England Legends and 
Folk Lore, Samuel Adams 
Drake, 56, 130, 131, 149. 

New England, Poems of, 
Henry W. Longfellow, 1 30. 

Neiu England, Poets', Helen 
A. Clarke, 56. 

New England's Prospect, Wil- 
liam Wood, 26, 27. 

New Hampshire, 13, 74, 77, 
98, 102, 119, 128, 131, 136, 
153, 156, 157, 167, 168, 
170, 202, 205, 207, 215, 
276. 

New Hampshire and Ver- 
mont, Gathered Sketches 
from the Early History of, 
Francis Chase, 121. 

New Hampshire as It Is, Ed- 
win A. Charlton, 15, 29, 
31, 72, 80, 89, 121, 122, 
149, 211, 247. 

NeTu Hampshire Book, The, 
Fox and Osgood, 149, 150, 
205. 

Neiv Hampshire, Colonial 
Life in, James H. Fassett, 
127. 

New Hampshire, Gazetteer 
of. Farmer and Moore, 247. 



33^ 



Index 



New Hampshire, Government 
of, 83, 84, 85, 86, 120, 167, 
204, 216, 230, 233, 236, 

244, 315- 

Netu Hampshire^ Guide to, 
Rollins, 51, 151. 

New Hampshire Historical 
Collections, 45, I2l, 

Neiv Hampshire, History of, 
Jerem)'^ Belknap, 12, 19, 
25, 27, 30, 31, 36, 41, 62, 
73, 83, 84, 89, 93, 97, 98, 
204, 205, 206, 207, 210. 
" Farmer's Edition, 78, 79, 
80, 83, 84, 85, 86. 

New Hampshire, History of, 
John N. McClintock, 125. 

New Hampshire, Provincial 
Papers of, edited by Na- 
thaniel Bouton, 30, 31, 37. 
61, 62, 74, 89. 

New Hampshire State Papers, 
86, 95, 96, 97. 

New Hampshire, Town Pa- 
pers, 96, 97. 

New York, 32, 138, 230, 232, 
246, 300. 

Newbury, 33, 86. 

Newburyport, 29. 

Newichewannocks ( Indians) , 

13- 

Niagara Falls, 245. 
Niantics (Indians), 37. 
Nickerson, Joshua, 232. 
Noah, A New, — Wanted, 

255-258. 
Nobhow, 53. 
Nonatomenut, 52. 
Norcross Pond, 163. 
North Conway Reporter, 275. 



North Station, Boston, 321. 
Northwest Bay, 145, 
Numphow, 67, 68. 
Nutfield, 122. 

Old Indian Chronicles, Sam- 
uel G. Drake, 55. 

Olivarian Brook, 241, 247. 

One Hoss Shay, Oliver Wen- 
dell Holmes, 190. 

Osceola, 22, 142, 172. 

Osgood, James R., White 
Mountains, il, 13, 47, 48, 
83, 99, 102, 106, 115, 117, 
119, 131, 132, 138, 142, 
146, 149, 157, 158, 159, 
160, 161, 162, 164, 165, 
166, 167, 168, 169, 174, 
175, 177, 179, 180, 188, 
219, 230,232,247,272,307. 

Ossipee, 122, 124, 127, 145, 
247. 

Ossipees (Indians), 148. 

Otis, 89, 92. 

Owl Cliff, 160, 161, 293, 311. 

Page, William, 215. 
Parker Mt., 143. 
Parkman, Francis, Half Cen- 
tury of Conflict, 121. 
Passaconaway, Chapter I, pp. 

11-51, 52, 53, 56, 57, 59, 
60, 61, 65, 69, 72 77, 78, 
81, 85, 98, 100, III, 196, 
322. 

Passaconaway Club-house, 51. 

Passaconaway Cottage, 5 1 . 

Passaconaway House, 51, 103, 
154, 171, 177, 186, 200, 
202, 236, 242, 243, 244, 



Index 



337 



246, 251, 252, 253, 257, 
258, 263, 288, 291, 297, 

307, 317. 

Passaconaway Inn, 51. 

Passaconaway Intervale, 5 1 , 
99, 100, 170, 183, 187, 
Chapter XIII, pp. 210-247, 
256, 265, 266, 268, 299, 
300, 303, 305, 321, 322. 

Passaconaway, Mount, Chap. 
V, pp. 102-114, 118, 119, 

129, 139, 142, 173, 179, 
180, 182, 184, 194, 202, 
236, 249, 255, 264, 299, 

311- 

Passaconaway's Papooses, 52- 

59. 
Paugus, II, 84, Chap. VI, pp. 

115-129. 
Paugus, Camp, 242, 244. 
Paugus, Mount, 102, 104, 

Chap. VI, pp. 1 15-129, 

130, 134, 135, 139, 142, 
182, 202, 264, 269, 286, 
288, 291. 

Pawtucket, 20, 35, 39, 47. 
65. 

Pawtuckets (Indians), 13. 

Payne, Thomas, 45, 46. 

Peak House, 146, 151, 153, 
154, 156, 252, 303, 321. 

Peavey, 247. 

Pegypscott, 80. 

Pemigewasset, 142, 163, 165, 
166, 169, 172, 

Penn, William, Life of, Sam- 
uel M. Janney, 21, 30, 46. 

Pennacook (Concord), 13, 16, 
25, 37, 38, 40, 42, 43, 44, 
49, 50, 51, 56, 57, 58, 60, 



61, 64, 68, 74, 79, 80, 81, 
82, 86, 87, 94, 96, 98. 

Pennacooks (Indians), 11, 13, 
14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 
21, 22, 26, 29, 32, 34, 35, 
40, 41, 42, 47, 48, 50, 51, 
52, 53, 58, 62, 69, 70, 71, 
72, 73, 75, 78, 79, 80, 83, 
84, 85, 86, 96, 97, 98, 100. 

Pennsylvania, 243. 

Pequawkets (Indians), 13, 
120, 122, 123, 124, 125, 
127, 128, 129, 149. 

Pestilence, 12. 

Philip (see King Philip). 

Philip's War, King, George 
M. Bodge, 89. 

Philip's War, Benjamin 
Church, 95, 96. 

Pike's Peak, 113. 

Pilgrims, 12, 14, 24. 

Pine Bend, 171. 

Pine Bend Camp, 258, 259, 
260, 261. 

Pinkham, Notch, 143. 

Piper, 139. 

Piscataqua, River, 31, 45, 88. 

Piscataquas (Indians), 13, 88. 

Pitcher Fall, 135, 136. 

Pleasant Mt., 143, 144, i55- 

Plymouth, Mass., 24, 25. 

Plymouth, N. H., 146. 

Poems of Nezu England, 
Henry W. Longfellow, 130. 

Poets' New England, Helen 
A. Clarke, 56. 

Pokanoket Swamp, lOO. 

Portland, no, 144, 155, 162, 
207, 215, 225, 227, 233, 
243, 245- 



338 



Index 



Portland and Ogdensburg 
Railroad, 162. 

Portland, Great Falls and 
Conway Railroad, 233. 

Portsmouth, 29, 164, 207, 
208, 215, 216, 321. 

Post, Boston Evening, 98. 

Potash, Mount, 105, 142, 170, 
171, 177, 178, 179, 182, 
193, 194, 247. 291, 311- 

Potter, Chandler E., History 
of Manchester, 12, 13, 16, 
17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 
24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 31, 

33, 34, 35, 37, 38, 40, 41, 
42, 43, 44, 52, 53, 54, 
58, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 
65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 
71, 72, 73, 75, 77, 78, 80, 
81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 89, 
96, 98, 100, 120, 121, 125, 
126, 127. 

Potter Farm, 303, 321. 

Povall, 236, 243, 244, 245, 
246, 256, 264, 266. 

Povall, James T., pictures by, 
opp, 102, 116, 158, 170, 
188, 256, 306, 318. 

Powwow, 17, 24, 26, 27, 40, 

125. 

Pray, Prof, James Sturgis, 

171, 172. 
Presidential Range, no, 159, 

183, 303. 
Princeton University, 268. 
Proprietors, 21 1, 212, 215. 
Prospect, Mount, 145, 146. 
Providence, R. I., 246. 
Provincial Papers of New 

Hampshire, edited by Na- 



thaniel Bouton, 30, 31, 37, 
61, 62, 74, 89. 
Purington, George, 247. 

Quakers, 90. 

Quakers in American Colo- 
nies, Rufus Jones, 90. 

Queen Anne's War, 97, 

Quimby, General, 270, 272. 

Quint, A, H., Historical 
Mem., 89, 90. 

Radeke, Eliza G., 246. 

Railroads, 233, 234, 241, 253, 
306, 318. 

Red Hill Pond, 145. 

Resolution, 143, 

Revelation, Mount, 159. 

Revolution, 116, 202, 207, 
208, 215. 

Rhode Island, 43, 246. 

Rhode Island School of De- 
sign, 246. 

Rhone Valley, 113, 184. 

Richardson, Lieut. J^rnes, 65, 
66, 68. 

Rip Van Winkle, 297. 

Robbins, 66. 

Rocky Branch, 264. 

Rogers and Rogers' Rangers, 
98. 

Rollins, Frank West, Tour- 
ists' Guide Book to the 
State of New Hampshire, 
51, 151, 221, 230, 247. 

Rowley, 33. 

Royal Navy, 116, 202, 203, 
207. 

Rumney-Marsh, George, 59. 

Rundlet, Levi, 216. 

Russell, 223, 224, 225, 236, 



Index 



339 



237, 246, 247, 300. 
Russell Manuscript, The, 196, 

210, 211, 212, 214, 216, 

217, 218, 220, 221, 222, 

223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 

228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 
233. 

Sabbaday, 160, 171, 177, 

Chap. X, pp. 186-192, 220, 

221, 237, 257. 
Sackatehock, 96, 97. 
Saco, 18, 31, 53, 113, 122, 

143, 144, 157. 161, 165, 

215, 232, 233, 257. 
Sacos (Indians), 13, 97. 
Sagamore James, 54, 57, 58. 
Saint Francis, 73, 74, 75, 96, 

97, 98, 128, 149- 
Saint John River, 277, 279. 
Salem, 56, 58, 65. 
Sale?/!, History of. Felt, 58. 
Sandwich, no, 142, 145, 180, 

184, 212, 213, 270. 
Sandwich Range, 75, 102, 109, 

117, 179 ,194, 208, 270. 
Sandwich Dome, 142, 180. 
Saugus (Lynn), 29, 53, 54, 

56, 58. 
Saugusaukes (Indians), 13. 
Savage, Hon. James, 30. 
Sawyer, Fred, 319. 
Sawyer's Pond, 160. 
Sawyer's River, 166. 
Sawyer's Rock, 165. 
Schenectady, 34. 
Schoppe, 267. 
Score-o'- Peaks, 99, iii, 250, 

308. 
Sebago, 144. 



Sebec, Me., 275. 

Senter, Joseph, 210. 

Sewall (Concord), 16, 45. 

Shackford, 103, 112, 133, 160, 
166, 172, 186, 191, 208, 
221, 234, 235, 236, 237, 

^ 240, 242, 243, 251. 

Shakespeare, William, Ham- 
let, 184. 

Sham Fight, 71, 72, 79. 

Shapley, Capt. Reuben, 76. 

Shapley's Wharf, 76. 

Shelburne Essays, Paul Elmer 
Moore, in. 

Siege of Wolves, 269-272. 

Signal Ridge, 167. 

Silver Lake, 145. 

Silver Spring, 159. 

Sitting Bull, 23. 

Smith, 190, 237, 240, 244, 
245, 256, 258, 259, 260, 
261. 

Smyth, Governor, 21. 

Souhegan River, 17. 

Spaniards, 202, 203. 

Spirit of the Falls, 189. 

Spokane, Wash., 245. 

Spruce Hill, 245, 305, 306, 
320. 

Squam Lake, iii, 146. 

Squamscotts (Indians), 13. 

Squando, 70. 

Square Ledge, 104, 182, 202. 

Squidrayse, 54. 

Standish, Miles, Life and Ad- 
ventures of, John S. C. Ab- 
bott, 196. 

State Papers, New Hampshire, 
86, 95, 96, 92. 

Stinson, 226. 



340 



Index 



Stoughton, Lieutenant Gover- 
nor of Province of Massa- 
chusetts Bay, 1 20. 

Strange Indians, 71, 79, 85. 

Strawberry Bank (see Ports- 
mouth). 

Stuarts, 147. 

Sugar Ball Hill (Concord), 

14. 
Sugar Hill, 170, 171, 193, 

195. 

Susquehannah Indians, 38. 

Sweetser, Moses F., 99, 131, 
164, 307. 

Swift River, 51, 99, 104, 105, 
138, 142, 143, 144, I57> 
161, 171, 172, 186, 195, 
208, 210, 229, 232, 233, 
234, 237, 239, 241, 256, 
257, 258, 259, 303, 305, 
306. 

Switzerland, 113, 162, 184. 

Syll, Captain, 70. 

Table Mt., 143, 159. 
Tahanto, 23, 45. 
Talmage, T. De Witt, 296. 
Tamworth, 145, 147, 212, 

213, 216, 247, 269, 270. 
Task, The, Cowper, 179. 
Tecumseh, Mount, 142. 
Thayer, Stephen Henry, 181. 
Thoreau, Henry David, 

Maine Woods, 17. 
Thorn Mt., 143. 
Tibado, 242, 243, 246, 247. 
Tinker, John, 53, 61. 
Totem, 22. 
Tourists' Guide Book to the 

State of New Hatnpshire, 



Frank West Rollins, 51, 
151, 221, 230, 247. 

Town Charters, Netv Hamp- 
shire, 96, 97. 

Transcript, Boston, 153, 272. 

Tremont, Mount, 142, 143, 
160, 161, 165, 177, 236, 
264, 311. 

Tripyramid, Mount, 99, 109, 

142, 173, 174, 176, 179, 

180, 194, 291. 
Truce of the Bear, Rudyard 

Kipling, 219. 
"Two Brothers," 97. 
Tyng, Colonel Jonathan, 60, 

73, 74, 75- 
Tyng, J. Warren, 147, 155, 

156. 
Tyngsboro, 75. 

Unanunguoset, 52. 

Uncanoonucs, 11 1. 

Uncas, 37. 

United States, 116, 208, 215, 
234, 235, 238, 243. 

United States Coast Survey, 
180. 

United States Geological Sur- 
vey, 246. 

United States Geological Sur- 
vey, Crawford Notch Sheet, 
159, 161, 165, 169, 170, 
213. 

Vermont, 233. 
Vose, 165, 166. 
Vose's Spur, 166, 167. 

Wachusett, Mount, 52, 60, 
78, III. 



Index 



341 



Wachusetts (Indians), 13, 52, 

60, 77. 
Wahowah (Wahvvah or Hope- 
hood), 84, 85, 119. 

Wahwah Hills, 119. 

Wakefield, 121. 

Waldron, Richard, 45, 46, 70, 
71, 86, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 
100. 

Walker's Pond, 140, 144. 

Wamesit (Tewksbury), 62, 
63, 64, 65, 68, 74- 

Wamesits (Indians), 13, 65, 
66, 67, 6g. 

Wannalancit, see Wonalan- 
cet. 

Wanted — A New Noah, 255- 
258. 

Ward, Julius, White Moun- 
tains, 140, 169. 

Ware, Henry, Jr., Memoir of 
the Life of, John Ware, 
184. 

Ware, John, Memoir of the 
Life of Henry Ware, Jr., 
184. 

Warren, History of, William 
Little, 47. 

Washington, Mount, 49, 50, 
131, 143, 158, 168, 170, 
183, 239, 316, 321. 

Washington, Mount, in Win- 
ter, J. H. Huntington, 170, 
316. 

Waterville, 171, 173, 174, 
175, 176, 213, 220, 221, 
226, 232, 233. 

Watson, photo, by. Frontis- 
piece. 

Watts, 55. 



Weare, Meshach, 20. 

Webster, Mount, 143. 

Weed, 215, 216, 221. 

Weeden, William B., Eco- 
nomic and Social History 
of New England, 116, 202, 
203, 204, 207, 208. 

Weeks, 216, 221, 239. 

Weetamoo, 55, 58. 

Wells Garrison, 96. 

Wentworth, Governor Ban- 
ning, 210. 

Wentworth, William, 92. 

Wenunchus, 53, 54, 55, 56, 

57, 58, 59. 

Westbrook, Colonel, 207. 

Wheeler, Mary H., 86, 89. 

Wheelwright Deed, 30, 31, 

Wheelwright, John, 31. 

Whipple, Colonel, 164, 165. 

White Brook, 241. 

White Hills, East of, M. E. 
Eastman, 146, 148. 

White Hills, Thomas Starr 
King, 49, 148. 

White Hills in Poetry, The, 
Eugene R. Musgrove, 148, 
150, 156, 181. 

White Mountain History, In- 
cidents in, Benjamin G. 
Willey, 28, 122, 148, 211, 
217, 219, 220. 

White Mountain Notch, 143. 

White Mountains, 113, 118, 
140, 141, 151, 165, 166, 
167, 168, 240, 246, 247, 
322. 

White Mountains, A Bibliog- 
raphy of the, Allen H. 
Bent, 148. 



342 



Index 



White Mountains, Guide and 
Trapper of, Chapter XV, 
pp. 273-300. 

White Mountains, Heart of 
the, Samuel Adams Drake, 
132, 149- 

White Mountains, James R. 
Osgood, II, 13, 47, 48, 83, 
99, 102, 106, 115, 117, 119, 
131, 132, 138, 146, 149, 
157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 
162, 164, 165, 166, 167, 
168, 169, 174, 175, 177, 
179, 180, 188, 219, 230, 
232, 247, 272, 307. 

White Mountains, Julius 
Ward, 140, 169. 

White Pond, 145. 

Whiteface, Mount, 105, 108, 
142, 179, 180, 181. 

Whiting, 123. 

Whittier, John Greenleaf, 

147, 155- 
Whittier, Among the Hills, 

132. 
Whittier, The Bridal of Pen- 

nacook, 55, 56, 57. 
Whittier Peak, 145. 
Whitton Pond, 145. 
Why the Chowder Did not 

Come to a Boil, 260, 261. 
Wickasaukee, 73. 
Wiers, The, 20. 
Wild-cat, 19, 48, 50, 106, 109, 

137, 183, 199, 200, 253, 

254, 255. 
Willard, Captain, 37. 
Willard, Mount, 143. 
Willey, Benjamin G., Inci- 
dents in White Mountain 



History, 28, 122, 148, 211, 
217, 219, 220. 

Willey, Mount, 143. 

William, King, 84. 

Winnecowetts (Indians), 13. 

Winnepesaukee, 18, 20, 49, 
50, III, 145, 175. 

Winnepesaukes (Indians), 13. 

Winnepurkitt, 54, 55, 58, 59, 
72. 

Winter Evening, The, 50, 91, 
92. 

Winthrop, Governor John, 54. 

Winthrop's Journal, by Gov- 
ernor John Winthrop, 54. 

Woburn, 65, 186. 

Wolf borough, 145. 

Wolves, 48, 50, 129, 220, 
231, 269, 270, 271, 272, 
279, 280. 

Wolves, The Siege of, 269, 
270, 271, 272. 

Wonalancet, 11, 29, 34, 35, 
47, 52, 53, 59, 60, Chap. 
Ill, pp. 60-76, 77, 78, 86, 
100. 

Wonalancet, Mount and Vil- 
lage, 102, 104, 105, 112, 
117, 119, 129, 142, 182, 
202. 

Wonalancet Out-of-Door 

Club, 209, 

Wonohaquaham, 55. 

Wood, William, Nt-zc Eng- 
land's Prospect, 26, 27. 

Woods, Sergeant, 122. 

Woodstock, 172, 269. 

Worcester, 245. 

Worombo, 95, 96. 

Wyman, Ensign, 124, 125. 



Index 343 

Yellowstone Park, 245. Young, Alexander, Massac hu- 

York Cliffs, Me., 51, setts Chronicles, 55. 

Young, Mt., 142. Youth's Companion, 76. 



qq 70 



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